Tom nodded. ‘What about Penny? Is she good for you?’
It was, Cam thought, an excellent question. A few days ago, he would have probably said that Penny was good for him. They had fun and they understood each other. She’d been candid about her relationship with her ex-husband and he’d told her about his marriage to Chrissie and about his struggles with grief.
After the previous night, though, everything had changed. Penny had really opened up about the mess that her ex had left her in after the separation and how the terms of the divorce had almost crippled her financially. He’d seen a side to his colleague that he’d not even suspected, and her vulnerability had really got to him – there was something raw and unsettling about her admission. The relief on her face, in her body, when he’d put his arm round her and agreed to help her – to put himself at risk to make her secure – was incredible. He felt powerful and useful in a way he’d not felt since Chrissie had died.
He looked at his son, sitting in silence on his bed, lost and confused, and realised that Tom could never find out what his father had offered to do to help Penny Bainbridge.
14
Annie froze. The voice in her ear was carried on warm, moist breath that repulsed her as much as frightened her. She could feel the warm length of the man pressed against her back as he held her tightly against him. There was nobody else here. He could do anything he wanted and there was nobody to stop him. Suddenly the gun wasn’t the thing that Annie feared the most; his body was far more threatening.
‘You’re not going to say a word or make a sound. Nod if you understand.’
Annie nodded, the movement impeded by the gloved hand across her mouth and the metal pressing against her neck.
‘Good. When I remove my hand, I want you to explain what the hell you think you’re doing. Got it?’
She nodded again and gulped in air as soon as her mouth was unobstructed. ‘I was hiding,’ she gasped. ‘I thought, if you believed that I’d escaped, you’d stop looking for me and I could get out and get help for Tom.’
The man’s grip loosened, creating space between their bodies. ‘Who’s Tom?’
‘Tom Cleaver. He’s the head’s son.’
‘Why does he need help?’
The question exposed the man’s identity. He wasn’t the one who’d been in the classroom with them then; he was the one who’d been guarding the door – completely unknown.
‘He got hurt. Stabbed.’
This time the man’s grip loosened completely, and he thrust Annie away from him as though she’d given him an electric shock. She took a couple of stumbling steps forwards and then turned to face her captor. She could only see his eyes and mouth, but she could tell from both that he was stunned by her revelation.
‘How did it happen?’ This time his voice lacked authority. ‘Who stabbed him?’
Why did he want to know? And why was he so shocked? Annie was confused. She thought the men had been communicating and that the one on the door had been the recipient of the various texts that Larry had sent. If this man didn’t know what had been happening in the classroom then who was being texted?
‘It was one of the other students. Him and Tom got into an argument and Harley had a knife. He just… he just stabbed him. That’s why they let me out – I went to the toilets to get some sanitary towels for the bleeding.’
The man nodded as if her story made sense, but she could see his eyes flicking from side to side as he digested the information. ‘But, if you’re worried about Tom, why didn’t you just get the… the sanitary towels and go back?’
The way he stumbled over the reference to sanitary products was odd. There was uncertainty there and he was clearly uncomfortable talking about ‘women’s things’ as Annie’s gran referred to periods. None of this tallied with the dark clothes, the gun and the ski mask. Could she risk telling the truth? So far he’d made no attempt to call for his colleague or to march her back to the classroom although she couldn’t work out what he wanted from her and the possibility of rape was still in the forefront of her mind.
‘He’s not as bad as I thought at first. The bleeding slowed down. It was an excuse to get out of the room and try to get some help.’
The man stared at her, his eyes widening. ‘Well that was fucking stupid.’
‘I know.’ She backed even further away from him and flinched as something struck the back of her legs. A chair. She’d half expected it to be the other man, the one she’d escaped from in the toilets. More by instinct than judgement she sat down to give her trembling legs a break and was surprised when the man hitched himself up onto a desk to sit opposite her.
‘I need to know who else is in that classroom,’ he said. ‘You’ve mentioned Tom Cleaver and this other student who stabbed him. Who else? Which teacher?’
‘Miss Frith,’ Annie said.
‘Donna?’
‘You know her? Is this all because of her?’
‘Is she okay? She’s not been hurt?’ The man ignored her question, battering her with ones of his own.
‘She seemed fine,’ Annie said. ‘Worried, but she’s not been physically hurt. Tom’s the only one–’
‘Thank God for that.’ The man sighed. He hunched forward slightly, resting the butt of his rifle on the floor and using it to prop himself up as though he were suddenly exhausted. Annie watched him closely, trying to assess whether she could cover the short distance to the classroom door before he could raise his gun.
He looked down at her. ‘Thinking of making a run for it?’ He barely sounded interested. ‘Be my guest.’ He held out one arm, gesturing grandly towards the door. ‘Doubt you’d get far though.’
Annie eyed him, suspicious. ‘How come?’
‘My “colleague” will be back in a few minutes. He’s convinced you’re still in the building.’
Annie suddenly realised the implication. ‘You knew, didn’t you? You knew I hadn’t escaped.’
He nodded. ‘I heard something shifting in the cupboard. I came in here first and heard something that sounded like somebody trying to move position in there.’ He flicked his eyes towards the door of the cupboard. I knew if I waited long enough that you’d have to come out. I told the other one that I was going to look upstairs but, after he’d gone, I just waited by the door. And out you came like a tortoise out of hibernation.’ He smiled sadly as though amused by his own lyrical use of language.
‘So, why didn’t you tell your friend? He’d have come in and marched me back to my form room and you’d have been a hero for finding me.’
‘Hero…’ the man mused. ‘I’m a long way from that.’
They sat in silence, Annie trying to work out what was going on. If this man wasn’t going to send her back then why had he waited for her to come out. Why not just force the door open and drag her back by her hair – or any other convenient part of her anatomy?
‘So, now what?’ Annie prompted. ‘What are you going to do with me?’
The man sighed. ‘I have no idea.’
It was better than being taken back, or assaulted, but the uncertainty brought its own kind of horror. If Annie didn’t know what he was planning, she couldn’t prepare; all she could do was wait.
She turned in her seat, trying to appear casual and unconcerned, and stared out of the window. The morning was brightening up and she could make out a thin layer of snow on the top of Blencathra. The fells looked so close in the clear winter air, but they might as well have been in another country – the sense of freedom they offered was as far out of reach as Antarctica. A glance at the clock on the back wall of the room informed her that it was now nearly forty minutes since the bell had rung for the end of registration and the intruders had burst into her form room.
Oddly, she didn’t feel as frightened as she had when the man had first grabbed her. There was something about his manner which suggested that he was doing this against his will and that he didn’t want to hurt anybody if he could avoid it. He sat on the desk, feet swin
ging like a naughty student, one hand still on the barrel of his rifle, head thrown back as though seeking inspiration from the gaps in the ceiling tiles.
‘I should take you back,’ he said, eventually. ‘If I let you go and they find out they might take it out on Donna.’
Miss Frith again. What was his connection to her form tutor? He could have been a boyfriend or a relative, that might explain why he was so worried about her. ‘Do you know Miss Frith?’ Annie asked.
‘Who?’
‘Donna Frith, you’ve mentioned her twice now.’
He didn’t respond but she noticed the gloved hand on the barrel of the rifle contract – she’d hit a nerve.
‘She’s my form tutor,’ Annie continued, emboldened by the man’s lack of verbal response. ‘I like her. She’s really kind and she’s helped me a lot.’
The man smiled. ‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ he mumbled. ‘She was always popular even as a kid.’
‘You grew up together?’ Annie pushed.
Too far.
‘None of your fucking business,’ the man snapped, jumping to his feet. ‘Shut up about her.’
Annie stayed in her seat as he began to pace backwards and forwards between two rows of desks. This wasn’t good. She’d formed an impression of him as a reluctant participant in whatever was going on and, if he’d been coerced in some way, that might make him less predictable than any of the other three.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m just anxious and I get chatty when I’m worried. I’ll shut up.’ She hung her head so she didn’t have to watch as the tension seemed to build in the air around him.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here. I’m taking you back.’
Annie stared at him but didn’t get up. There was no conviction in his voice. Whatever was going on, this man’s heart wasn’t in it and she needed to see if she could persuade him to let her go.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Please. Just listen to me.’
‘Get up!’ He pointed the rifle at her, but she could see that his hands were trembling.
‘Five minutes,’ she begged. ‘Please.’
The man shook his head.
‘I’ll make it worth your while.’ Annie tried to raise her eyebrows in what she hoped was a suggestive manner as she smiled at him. ‘Please.’
The man threw his head back and exhaled loudly. ‘What? You’re offering me sex? Jesus, that’s disgusting. You’re… what… seventeen? That’s barely legal.’
‘I’m eighteen,’ Annie said. The man shocked her by barking a laugh.
‘Eighteen! Christ! Is this what my life’s turned into. Waving guns and being propositioned by children? Fuck!’
Annie flinched as he snapped the rifle round onto his shoulder and folded his arms across his chest.
‘No. I don’t want to have sex with you. I don’t want to take you back to that classroom and I don’t want to hurt you. I just don’t have a choice.’ He sat back down on the desk opposite Annie and looked directly into her eyes. ‘This isn’t me. I’m in well over my head. I am going to take you back but first you’re going to listen. You’ll be safe with your classmates; nobody wants any of you to get hurt. This isn’t about the kids. To be honest, I’m not sure what it is about, but you’re all just collateral – a bargaining chip at worst. That’s why I was so surprised when you told me about that lad being stabbed.’
As Annie listened, she started to follow the rhythms of his voice, his choice of words, his flat vowels. This man was local. That could be useful information for the police – if the police ever came.
‘Donna’s my sister. I’m scared that, if I don’t do as I’m told, she’ll get hurt. They said that the guns are just for show. Mine’s not even loaded – that’s what he said anyway but I don’t want to have to find out. Supposedly the only gun with live ammunition in it is the handgun that I gave to M– to the other one when we were looking for you.’
Annie listened, feeling like a priest taking confession, trying to ignore the man’s assertion that he was going to take her back to her form room.
‘You have to trust me that this isn’t about you, any of you, and nobody will get hurt. Montrose said–’ He bit back the rest of the sentence as he realised what he’d done. He’d given her a name. A name she recognised.
‘Montrose?’
‘Forget I said that.’
‘Gerry Montrose?’
The man shook his head, but Annie could see that she was right.
‘I can’t say.’
‘I know him. Gerry.’
The man stared down at her, interest and wariness warring in his eyes. ‘How come?’
Annie took a deep breath, wondering about the significance of her admission. ‘Gerry Montrose is my uncle.’
15
Donna jumped as the door was flung open so violently it crashed against the wall. Was it only forty minutes since Harley had done the same thing? She glanced at the clock at the back of the room. Yes, just under forty minutes. She’d spent much of that time trying to wrestle with her feelings of fear and guilt, desperately trying to work out a way to get the men to release the students but her thoughts seemed paralysed with nowhere to go. She was convinced that this had something to do with her brother’s debts and that she’d inadvertently brought these men, and this danger, here.
‘Where’s the girl?’ Larry asked, taking a step towards the man who’d just barged into the room and peering round him into the corridor.
‘Gone,’ the man stated flatly as though the matter held no interest for him. He dumped a handful of sanitary towels on the desk nearest the door. Donna looked from one to the other trying to work out the implications of ‘gone’. She could see most of the students doing the same – one or two obviously fearing the worst.
‘What do you mean, gone? You were supposed to watch her. You were only taking her to the toilets. What the fuck happened?’
The other man, the one nicknamed Mo, looked at the students and then at Larry. Donna sensed his reluctance to answer. His eyes couldn’t stay fixed on anything for more than a second or two. He was embarrassed and didn’t want to admit his mistake.
‘What do you mean?’ Larry repeated.
‘I let her go to the toilet and when I went back in she’d gone. There’s a cupboard and it has another door into the corridor. I didn’t know – it wasn’t marked on the plan of the building.’
Larry clenched his fist tightly on the butt of his rifle and Donna half expected him to lift it and point it at Mo. ‘You didn’t think to check?’ Larry’s voice trembled with barely suppressed rage. ‘You just left her in there unsupervised?’
Mo dropped his head and fixed his eyes on the floor in a pose Donna recognised from numerous students who’d been caught out in some form of wrongdoing and were awaiting punishment.
‘Jesus!’ Larry hissed. ‘You do know who she is? The girl?’
Mo shook his head.
Larry scanned the faces of the other people in the room, several of which had turned to him, curious. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Larry said, but Donna could see that it did matter. It mattered a lot. She thought back through everything she knew about Annie Bainbridge. Donna had been the girl’s form tutor for over a year and she’d also taught her in years seven and eight. The only significant thing she could think of was that she was the daughter of the deputy head. Was that what this was about? Was Penny involved in some way with these men?
Suddenly dizzy with relief, Donna struggled to resist the urge to put her arms on her desk and lay her head on them. This wasn’t about her and Andy – this wasn’t her doing, she hadn’t put her students in danger. The earlier paralysis of thought she’d been experiencing lifted and her brain seemed to come back to life. If this wasn’t her fault, she was in the same situation as the students – no more or less important than any one of them – and the realisation led her to believe she might be in a position to argue with their captors, to force a resolution.
Scanning the room, Donna
searched the faces for a likely ally. If they could create a distraction, she might be able to get another student out or work out a way to get help.
The girls all looked terrified, apart from Jess who’d taken over from Annie and was looking after Tom who was still hunched against the back wall. Most of the boys looked equally frightened, pale faces and wide eyes staring at the men with the guns. Except Harley. Since the stabbing, Harley had been sitting with his head in his hands staring at either the desk or his lap. He looked lost, disconnected, and Donna wasn’t surprised. When this was over, Harley would be facing criminal charges. Whatever the resolution, whatever their captors did or didn’t do, nothing would change for Harley. He’d brought a weapon into school and used it on another student. He’d be permanently excluded and, quite possibly, jailed. Donna knew the boy was eighteen – he’d be tried as an adult and have to face the full consequences of his violence.
She looked over to where Jess was crouched next to Tom Cleaver. The girl looked frightened but determined to help her friend – she was whispering to him, the tone reassuring. Donna tried to focus on the hand that Tom was using to keep pressure on his wound. She could see the white surface of the sanitary towel between his fingers.
White.
Tom wasn’t bleeding anywhere near as much as Annie had suggested – it had been a trick. God the girl had guts! Or she knew more about the situation than she’d let on. At least one of these men knew who Annie was – was she in on their plans? Was it possible that the kind, dedicated student had helped to set this up? It didn’t seem likely given Larry’s angry reaction to her disappearance and Donna refused to believe that Annie would put her classmates in danger.
But where was she?
Nothing was making sense. At first, Donna had been convinced that the invasion had been something to do with Andy’s debt. Montrose hadn’t directly threatened her but his tone and the way he’d slowly scanned her face with his cool grey eyes had been less than reassuring. Now it seemed there was a connection with the Bainbridges in some way.
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