‘You knew I fancied Tom,’ she said. ‘I told you last year. I couldn’t work out why you weren’t keen on us going out but now I know. You selfish cow! How can I go out with him now? It’s like incest.’
Her mum smiled at that.
‘It’s not funny. We just got together last night.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised that her mum would probably misinterpret them and imagine that she and Tom had slept together.
‘Last night?’ her mum said. ‘That’s why he was on your “girly” camping trip – so you could have sex with him? I knew there was something going on.’
‘Pot, kettle, black,’ Annie retorted. ‘You only let me go camping so you could shag Mr Cleaver.’
Her mum stood up and then sat back down again. They seemed to have reached some sort of stalemate. Neither of them was in the right but neither was completely in the wrong either. Annie knew that she was only angry with her mum because of the implications for her and Tom and she also knew that her mum probably wasn’t mad at her for sleeping with Tom; she was mad because Annie hadn’t talked to her beforehand.
And that was the issue.
Somewhere, somehow, they’d lost the ability to communicate.
Dad leaving had brought them closer and for the first few years they’d been more like friends than mother and daughter. Annie had been allowed to get away with things that her classmates’ mothers would have frowned upon – and her dad certainly wouldn’t have allowed – such as staying up way past her normal bedtime and, when she turned fifteen, the occasional glass of cider. They’d talked about school, boys, the news, everything, almost as equals and Annie had always thought that her mum tried to respect her views and opinions. But that had all changed just before the previous Christmas – and now Annie knew why. Her mum must have started seeing Mr Cleaver around that time and didn’t feel the need for her daughter’s company so often.
That was also the time that Annie had started to get seriously interested in Tom. She’d only mentioned the attraction twice and, both times, her mum had expressed her disapproval but given no reason. She’d become a lot stricter and a lot nosier about Annie’s love life.
‘Anyway, not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t have sex with Tom. I have far too much self-respect for that. And he’s nice. You’d have known that if you’d have given him a chance. He’s not the type of lad who’d pressure a girl – he’s kind and gentle.’
Her mum’s eyes fill with tears. ‘I’m sorry I’ve messed this up for you,’ she said. ‘Cam’s not a bad man either.’
Annie doubted that. What sort of man started going out with somebody so soon after his wife had died? It had only been a couple of years. Didn’t he care about Tom’s mum? ‘Not bad? Open your eyes, Mum. His wife’s only been dead ten minutes and he’s sniffing around you.’
The words were wrong. Too harsh. Her mum’s pale cheeks flushed and, at first, Annie thought she’d embarrassed her but then she realised that her mum was furious.
‘Get out!’ she yelled, standing up and walking over to Annie until they were nose to nose. ‘Go up to your room and stay there. I won’t have you talking to me like this. You’re grounded.’
Annie pushed past her. ‘Grounded? I’m not fucking twelve! And I was going anyway. I can’t stand being around you!’ She slammed the living room door as hard as she could and ran up the stairs, flopping down on her bed, too angry to cry.
A tap on her bedroom door woke Annie up. She looked around, confused. Had she been asleep? The sunlight that usually crept down the wall behind her bed had thinned to a narrow strip and she could hear children playing outside.
Another tap, louder this time. She was about to invite her mum in until memories from their earlier argument reminded her that she was still angry.
‘What?’
‘Can I come in?’ Her mum sounded hesitant, contrite even, but Annie wasn’t convinced.
‘No. Leave me alone.’
‘We really should talk. Come downstairs, I’ve put the kettle on. Five minutes?’
‘No!’
‘Please, Annie. Let’s try to sort this out.’
She listened to her mum’s footsteps as she crossed the landing and trotted downstairs, uncertainty suddenly gripping her. Was her mum really sorry? Was she going to stop seeing Mr Cleaver?
Annie slid off the bed and fluffed up the duvet. Memories of her night with Tom came back, curling up in his arms, nudging him because he was snoring and then teasing him about it the next morning, the sense of things having irrevocably changed as they rolled up their sleeping bags and began packing their belongings. And then his face as he’d seen his dad’s car in the driveway of Annie’s house.
She’d texted him after her fight with her mum but there’d been no response. Not surprising, really – why would he want anything to do with her now?
The kitchen smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Two mugs sat at opposite sides of the pine table and her mum was leaning against the countertop that ran the full length of one wall as though keeping a safe distance away until her daughter had made her move. She’d swapped the dressing gown for her usual staying-at-home attire – loose tracksuit bottoms and a tight-fitting T-shirt. Annie pulled out a chair and sat down, grabbing one of the mugs of coffee and clasping it in both hands. She wasn’t cold though; she just needed something solid to cling to. And she could always throw it across the room if she felt the need to express her rage.
‘I am sorry,’ her mum said, pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down. In the dying pink of the sunlight that was still creeping in through the window, Annie could see every line and wrinkle on her face. She looked sincerely anxious and genuinely sorry.
‘I had no idea that things would go this far with Cam. It wasn’t very serious to start with but we seem to get on really well. He did stay over last night but he slept on the couch. I swear. I went out to get a takeaway after he arrived, we had a bottle of wine and watched a film. If I’m being totally honest it wasn’t my decision that he sleep in the living room, but he’s a decent man and I think we might be able to make a go of it in the future.’
‘How lovely for you,’ Annie sneered.
‘I suppose I deserve that,’ her mum conceded. ‘I should have told you sooner.’
‘You think?’
‘Annie, grow up. Sarky comments aren’t going to change anything. I want to know how serious things are between you and Tom. If it’s just a crush that’s got a bit out of hand then I’m sure we can work something out but if you really like him then things are a bit more difficult.’
‘Crush?’ Annie said. ‘I’ve liked Tom for months and I thought he liked me, but he’s not texted since I got home. Christ knows what he thinks about me now he knows about you and his dad. He might even think I already knew and hadn’t told him.’
Her mum just nodded.
‘I don’t know what you see in Mr Cleaver anyway. He’s so full of himself.’
‘We just get on well. I wanted to tell you, but we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months and I didn’t want to upset you if it turned out to be nothing. I am really sorry, Annie. What do you want me to do?’
Suddenly, Annie felt trapped. If she asked her mum to stop seeing Mr Cleaver then she’d be responsible for her mother’s unhappiness but if they carried on as they were, where did that leave her and Tom?
She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee.
‘Do you want me to stop seeing him?’
Annie shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know what I want. If you stop seeing him, you’ll just blame me if you’re miserable and Tom might not want anything to do with me anyway. I don’t need a new dad and, if I did, Cam Cleaver wouldn’t be my first choice. I don’t know what you see in him, Mum. He’s really not a nice man.’
They sat in silence, stalemate.
‘How about this?’ Mum offered. ‘Cam and I will keep it platonic for now. No more sleepovers, no PDA, I won’t invite him here unless you
agree. We’ll still see each other – go out for the odd meal or to see a film but that’s all. If we think there’s something more serious between us and we want to pursue it then I’ll ask you first.’
It was a very generous compromise.
‘What about me and Tom?’
‘That’s up to the two of you. I won’t get in your way if you want to carry on seeing him.’
Annie took another sip of coffee. There was something about her mum’s tone that didn’t quite ring true. This was too easy. Had she completely misjudged the situation and this thing with her mum and Mr Cleaver wasn’t very serious? Mum certainly seemed willing to spend less time with him. Maybe it wasn’t working and she was going to use Annie as an excuse to end it.
‘Do you really like Cam?’
Her mum smiled. ‘Honestly? He’s the first man I’ve been involved with since your dad left. He’s been kind and we have a lot in common but I’m not sure I’d want to settle down and build a life with him.’
‘How come?’
The smile tightened around her mum’s mouth but it left her eyes completely. ‘I’m finding out things about him that might make a big difference to our friendship.’
‘Like what?’
Her mum shook her head. ‘Nothing important. Are we going to be okay? Do I get a hug?’
Annie put her mug down and stood up. ‘Not yet,’ she had said. ‘Let’s see what happens.’
11
Cam kept his eyes fixed on Pearson. Even though the man was speaking quietly, Cam was able to read his lips – not that he was doing much talking: he seemed mainly to be listening and saying ‘right’. Finally, he passed the phone back to Ruth Warnesford.
‘Well?’ Cam asked.
‘They know there are police officers on site. They’ve asked us to hold back on the medical supplies.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I have no idea,’ Pearson admitted. ‘But I don’t think we need to assume the worst.’
If the words had been intended to calm Cam down, they failed spectacularly. Instead, his head started to spin with panic.
‘Maybe whoever was hurt has died?’ he suggested, his voice shaking. ‘Maybe that’s why they don’t need anything.’ Tom was in that room. Cam couldn’t get past that thought echoing through his head like a klaxon. Even if Tom wasn’t hurt, he might be traumatised by whatever he’d witnessed. And there was nothing he could do to help.
‘Mr Cleaver, I have no other information and everybody still in school needs you to remain calm. How about you go and check that the evacuation’s gone smoothly. I’ll go and chat to your deputy, see how arrangements for the ops room are going.’
Resentment flared. He was in charge, not Penny. Why would the police officer want to talk to her? This was his school, his responsibility. It should be him. But he could see the sense in the man’s words. Pearson seemed to have sussed him out quickly and Cam also resented that. He knew himself that he was better if he had a job to do. In a tense situation he needed focus, he needed to do something and Pearson had spotted that.
‘Okay,’ he conceded. ‘I’ll go down to the main hall and see what’s happening. We’ve still got the group of teachers and year thirteen students who were allowed to leave the humanities block. I put them in a computer room. Do you want to interview them or leave it to your colleagues when they arrive?’
‘My colleagues will definitely need to talk to anybody who can help identify who the men are or what they’re doing over there. Why don’t you assess who’s best equipped to speak to somebody and allow the remainder to go down to the theatre? We can’t interview dozens of people only to hear dozens of versions of the same story – it’d be a waste of time and resources. Hang on, I’ll get Brooks back. Take him with you, see if he can help.’
Pearson took his phone out and sent a quick text. A response pinged in almost immediately. ‘He’ll be two minutes.’
Cam stared at the phone, puzzled. ‘I might have watched far too much television, but don’t you usually communicate by radio? Airwave or something?’
Pearson scowled at him as though he thought that Cam was telling him how to do his job. ‘Mr Cleaver, at the moment we have a number of armed men on site. This is obviously a highly sophisticated operation as they have targeted weak spots in the school’s boundary.’ Cam flinched at the accusatory tone. ‘They knew where they were going and they have been keeping communication to a minimum. It’s entirely possible that they are monitoring our progress and they may have access to the Airwave channel. In situations like this the protocol is to use mobile phones until the danger has been assessed.’
Cam was about to ask how a criminal gang might be monitoring secure police channels, but there was no time to pursue the issue as PC Brooks burst through the door his face flushed and his breathing heavy. ‘Got here as quickly as I could, guv.’
Pearson nodded his appreciation and explained that Brooks was to escort Cam to the computer room where the sixth formers and their form tutors had been asked to wait. The uniformed officer turned to Cam. ‘After you, sir.’ There was something about the way the man emphasised the ‘sir’ that made Cam look at him a bit more closely. Probably in his late twenties with a likeable smile and deep brown eyes, Brooks looked like he might have been a pupil only a few years ago.
Cam led the way back to the computer room where the sixth formers and staff had been asked to wait. He hoped that they’d followed his instruction about not using their phones to contact anybody or to post on social media. If the news of the invasion got out it would seriously hamper the police effort and the students and staff were certainly savvy enough to appreciate that.
‘In here,’ he said, holding the door open and ushering Brooks into C12 as one of the students stopped speaking and turned to the door. They’d only been here for twenty minutes but they all looked wary and weary, staff included.
‘Finally,’ Colin Styles said, standing up from the desk where he’d been perched. ‘What the f-hell’s going on out there?’
Cam studied the worried faces of the students and wondered how best to deal with the situation. The truth seemed to be the best option rather than platitudes and reassurances, but he needed to choose his words carefully. ‘Okay,’ he began. ‘The men you saw earlier are still in the humanities block and are still holding Miss Frith’s form group.’
Murmurs of disquiet amongst the students.
‘The police are on site. At the moment a detective inspector is in charge of the situation but he’s expecting a full negotiating team very soon. The rest of the school is being evacuated to the theatre in town and, as soon as I’ve spoken to you, you’ll all be allowed to join them. I’d still like you to refrain from contacting anybody and to stay off social media. The situation is very delicate and one comment or piece of false information could jeopardise those students and staff who are being held hostage. Detective Inspector Pearson has suggested a communications blackout until the situation has resolved. The last thing we need is a group of reporters and parents in front of the school distracting the police from their job.’
‘What about the parents of the students being held? Have they been informed?’
It wasn’t a question that Cam had been expecting. His decision not to inform the parents had been based on the need for security and to protect those being held hostage. And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know what to tell them or how he’d deal with twenty sets of frightened parents. He knew how it felt. He was terrified every time he thought about Tom.
‘Not yet. Until the police are able to assess the situation, we need to limit the amount of information we give out.’ He held his hand up as two or three students seemed about to protest. ‘There’s no point in panicking people unnecessarily. And I’m acting on the advice of the police at this time.’
There was still some muted mumbling, but the students and staff seemed ready to co-operate.
‘What about your son?’ Styles asked. ‘Isn’t he in Do
nna’s form group? Is he still in the humanities block?’
He could tell from Styles’s slightly sardonic expression that he was expecting an answer in the negative. Cam hadn’t always been able to count on Styles’s full support and the man seemed to relish any opportunity to challenge Cam’s authority. He’d once overheard Styles tell another member of staff that Cam was only running the school for his own ends, for the kudos and of course the money. Cam wasn’t sure why he’d expect that Tom had been treated differently from anybody else in Donna Frith’s classroom just because he was the head’s son.
‘Tom’s still in there,’ Cam confirmed.
Styles’s belligerent expression changed to one of concern. ‘Have you heard from the men who’re holding him and the others? Do you know what they want?’
Cam shook his head and sighed. ‘At the moment we’ve no idea. All we can do is wait. That’s why I’m here. I need to help the police as much as possible and I’m going to need your assistance. If any of you can tell us anything at all about your experience this morning, anything that might help to identify these men or to help the police work out what they might want then please let me know.’
Blank looks all round.
‘Okay,’ he said, turning to Brooks. ‘I really don’t think this will help you. I can get a list of names so you can interview the students and staff individually when your backup arrives.’
‘What about their weapons?’ Brooks asked as if he hadn’t heard what Cam had said. ‘Can anybody tell me anything about the guns?’
A boy at the back raised a hand. ‘They looked like semi-automatic rifles. My brother’s into that kind of thing. Not that he owns one,’ he added quickly. ‘He just knows about guns. He’s in the army.’
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