by Lauren North
‘What the hell?’ The voice is an angry panting growl and for a split second he’s staring right at Harrie. ‘Hey.’ He turns to talk to the person out of Harrie’s eyeline. ‘Come here.’
Run.
And this time Harrie does move. She’s slow and clumsy, her legs weak as though she’s run for miles. She stumbles as she throws herself towards the back door, reaching the handle, pulling back, slipping through.
Cold air hits her face and she’s out, running back to the gate.
She’s going to make it. She’s going to get home and then she can forget about the blood and the dead man on the floor. She will. She has to.
The gate is in darkness. Harrie’s hands fly out, rubbing the wood. A sharp splinter digs into her skin but she doesn’t care. She finds the handle just as footsteps tap on the concrete behind her. She throws open the gate and in the second it takes for it to open, for her body to move, Harrie realizes her mistake.
She’s running home, retracing her steps. But the back door and then the gate – it’s too much stop–start. She should have run straight down the garden, hidden in the shadows, found a fence to climb over. Done a hundred other things that weren’t this.
She makes it one step on to the driveway when a weight hits her shoulder. A firm hand squeezing tight, pulling her back. She cries out in pain and thrashes, trying to duck out of the grasp, but he’s got two hands on her now and is picking her up, wrapping her in a bear hug like her dad has done a hundred times, but that was playing and this is not.
‘No,’ she cries out, wriggling and kicking, moving everything she can move inside the tightness of his arms as he carries her back inside. Her heel connects with his shin and he groans, his grip slipping so her head is covered with his arm.
They’re in the kitchen now. The warmth and the smell of metal encircling her again. She has to get away. Harrie bites down on his arm as hard as she can, harder than she’s ever bitten anything. Warm liquid – blood – fills her mouth.
‘Argh,’ he yells and then she’s no longer in his arms but flying to the ground, too fast to steady herself, too fast to change her course. She can see exactly where she’s going to land and there’s nothing she can do to stop the splatting sound of her body skidding into the puddle of the dead man’s blood.
Village Girlies’ Group Chat,
Tuesday 27 October, 18.40
Bev Pritchett: BREAKING NEWS KLAXON
Sandra Briggs: ???
Bev Pritchett: That new boy Kai in Year 5 who Tracy thought was the vandal is leaving the school!!
Gina Walker: Really? Do you know why?
Tracy Campbell: I was only speculating. It could’ve been anyone. @SandraBriggs has Jack found anything else?
Sandra Briggs: Not yet.
Bev Pritchett: Kai’s mum told Mike that Kai hasn’t settled well and she’s moving him to a new school AGAIN!
Kat Morris: I thought he’d made quite a few friends.
Bev Pritchett: Just between us, Mike says that the mum felt like nobody wanted him there, which obviously Mike said was crazy.
Gina Walker: That’s a shame she felt like that. She didn’t exactly make any effort to come and talk to us though. We’re a friendly bunch.
Tracy Campbell: Well I for one am relieved. He was a bad influence!!
Bev Pritchett: Mike thinks it was definitely Kai who vandalized the school.
Kat Morris: That’s that then. What on earth are we all going to talk about from now on?
Village Girlies’ Secret Group Chat
Tuesday 27 October, 18.46
Bev Pritchett: @KatMorris still plenty more things to talk about!! Like the fact I bumped into Sue Stockton yesterday and she was a total mess.
Tracy Campbell: She’s always a mess!
Bev Pritchett: She is convinced Dean isn’t in Spain.
Sandra Briggs: What did you say to that?
Bev Pritchett: I told her she should speak to Anna as she and Dean were ‘friends’.
Tracy Campbell: YOU DIDN’T!! LOL
Bev Pritchett: I did :-)
Kat Morris: OMG you guys are the worst!
Sandra Briggs: @KatMorris like you’re not LOLs.
CHAPTER 37
Wednesday, three days until Halloween
Harrie
Harrie’s hands wrap around the bobbled sides of the rugby ball at the exact moment that Rufus reaches for it. They tussle for a second before falling to the ground in a heap. A peal of laughter escapes from Rufus’s mouth. The sound makes Harrie laugh too. She feels almost normal in that moment. Almost.
The wet grass seeps through her trousers but Harrie doesn’t care.
‘I got it first,’ Rufus says with another boyish giggle.
‘No you didn’t,’ she grins, releasing a hand to tickle Rufus under the arm.
Then the moment changes. ‘Harriet James.’ Her name is said with a deep authority that makes Harrie release the ball and leap up with the speed of an electric shock. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Mr Pritchett is standing a metre away, arms crossed, face scowling with displeasure. Harrie looks from him to Rufus, still lying on the grass but no longer laughing. A hush falls over the school playing field. From the corner of her eye, Harrie sees Ben and Tyler stop dead, watching. The football they were kicking rolls towards Harrie’s feet but she doesn’t kick it back.
‘Well?’ Mr Pritchett barks.
‘We were just playing. Sorry,’ she adds, although she doesn’t know why. They’re not really supposed to wrestle on the ground when it’s wet, but they all do it. Yesterday, Ben and Tyler were mud-wrestling under the big oak tree and were so mucky after lunch break that they had to change into their PE kits, and no one told them off.
‘Go sit on the chair outside my office.’ His eyes are piercing and never leave Harrie’s face. ‘Fighting of any kind is not tolerated.’
She almost laughs then, shaking her head with relief. Mr Pritchett must have got the wrong end of the stick. She shoots a look at Rufus. ‘We were just—’
‘There’ll be time for an explanation later. Go now, please.’
‘Mr Pritchett,’ Rufus starts, his voice small. ‘We weren’t—’
‘Thank you, Rufus, but there is no need to defend Harriet. I know exactly what I saw. The bell will be going soon. Brush some of that mud off.’
Harrie’s head drops as she walks quickly off the playing field and into the school. She hears Elise call out to her. Harrie looks up, about to answer, but Mr Pritchett is right behind her, his hand reaching for Harrie’s shoulder to guide her in. Panic shoots through her body. She can’t let him touch her. What if she freaks out like when Tyler bumped into her? She quickens her pace, eyes fixing on the floor as she walks through the school to Mr Pritchett’s office.
‘Wait here,’ he says, pointing to the old plastic naughty chair. His voice has yet to soften like it normally does when he’s told someone off. ‘This is very serious, Harrie. Very serious indeed. You cannot go around punching people and expecting to get away with it.’
Harrie looks up, her mouth opening, the denial on her lips, but the look on Mr Pritchett’s face tells her not to bother. Instead she bites down on her lip, her hands moving to rub at her knees.
The minutes pass. The school bustles around her. A kid from Year Two comes in to get a plaster for a grazed hand. A phone rings unanswered in the main office. Teachers trail out of the staff room one by one, folders and mugs in their hands. Miss Holloway stops at the sight of Harrie and frowns. Harrie can’t tell if she’s worried or disappointed to see her. Both probably.
The bell rings. Harrie waits, expecting Mr Pritchett to reappear and tell her to go back to class. Except the door remains shut. Has he forgotten she’s out here? More time passes. Her class will be in their seats by now. She can imagine Elise asking Miss Holloway twenty questions. Where is Harrie? What did she do? Why isn’t she back?
It’s only as the classes file noisily into the school hall for assembly that
Mr Pritchett appears, his expression still stony. ‘Go join your class, Harrie,’ he says. ‘And if I were you, I would listen very carefully this afternoon. Is that understood?’
Harrie nods. Tears of humiliation threaten behind her eyes, but she keeps them in as she walks into the hall. The smell of boiled carrot cubes still hangs in the air from lunch. A hundred pairs of eyes watch her as she passes the little Reception kids, fidgeting on their bottoms, then the other classes, until she reaches the benches at the back. Elise waves her over, scooting along the smooth wood to make space for Harrie.
Harrie keeps her head down, not bothering to listen at first. Her mind is still turning over what happened at lunch. She replays the moment she and Rufus fell to the ground, both grabbing at the ball. Mr Pritchett must have thought they were fighting, not playing. But why didn’t he ask Rufus what happened?
Mr Pritchett’s voice rises a notch, penetrating Harrie’s thoughts. ‘Stealing is at the very heart of a corrupt society,’ he says.
Her skin tingles. Her eyes pull up and she finds Mr Pritchett’s gaze on her. He carries on. A whole twenty-five minutes of booming words that seem directed straight at Harrie.
She swallows hard. Is this about the phone she slipped into her pocket that night?
Harrie gives a small shake of her head. She’s being paranoid. He can’t know what happened. He can’t know about the phone she took. He just can’t.
CHAPTER 38
Anna
The routine of my life – the work, washing, tidying, cleaning – takes over today. I let it take over. Yesterday, all I could think about was Harrie and Rob. Rob and Harrie. I flipped from one to the other, feeling helpless and lost. Dean was mixed among it all, like sticky weed in my thoughts. I woke up this morning with nothing left but autopilot, my emotions coated with an immovable treacle of worry.
By the time I reach the school playground to collect the girls, my head is pounding with a headache and the thought of another night of gymnastics fills me with loathing. A light rain drizzles slowly from the sky, more mist than droplets, frizzing my hair and echoing my mood.
I spot Kat across the playground, standing in a huddle with Gina, Sandra and Tracy. Their backs are to me and I’m glad they’ve not spotted me. Sue’s comment about gossip plays through my mind and I don’t have the energy to talk to them today. I pull my hood up and stand in the corner.
The younger classes pile out first and despite everything a sweeping joy floods my body as Molly comes skipping towards me.
‘Hey baby,’ I say, opening my arms for a hug. She throws herself into me and we squeeze each other tight.
‘Mummy.’ Molly pulls away, glancing across the playground before hopping from foot to foot. ‘Can I go to Olivia’s house to play?’
Before I have a chance to answer, Tracy is by my side with Olivia, and both girls are grinning from ear to ear.
‘Looks like you’ve just been ambushed too,’ Tracy smiles.
I laugh. ‘Yes.’
‘We’d love to have Molly to play this afternoon, if she’d like to come over? She can stay for tea too.’
‘Yessssss,’ Molly says, the single word a long hiss.
‘OK, thanks. If you’re sure you don’t mind?’
‘Not at all. Saves me having to play dressing up.’ Tracy laughs again. ‘Do you want to pick her up about five thirty?’
‘Perfect. Thank you.’ I drop to a crouch and hug Molly. ‘Be a good girl,’ I tell her, before she hands me her book bag and skips off hand in hand with Olivia.
‘Mum.’ I look up to see Elise and Harrie side by side. ‘Mr Pritchett wants to talk to you,’ Elise says.
‘Right,’ I nod, looking past them to where the head teacher is standing. He’s holding a large navy golf umbrella and is talking to a Year One parent with a toddler in her arms. ‘It’s probably about your extra tuition,’ I say. ‘Wait here. It won’t take long.’
‘Can we go back?’ Harrie asks. There is something desperate in her eyes but with it a flash of defiance as though she’s going to walk away whether I say yes or not.
I shake my head and keep my voice firm. ‘No. Just wait, please.’
Harrie sighs and drops her school bag on the floor. There’s a thud from where her water bottle hits the concrete and I bite back a remark about looking after her things and console myself with the fact that she hasn’t walked off.
Rain starts to patter on my coat. A gust of wind blows drops of it into my face.
The playground empties around us and I linger behind the other parent still talking to Mr Pritchett. From the tone of their voices it sounds like a chat, a bit of fun, and I will them to hurry up. I have to make dinner early tonight so Elise can eat before gymnastics. Something inside me sinks at the battle I’ll face with Harrie. She’ll want to be left alone. Of course she will. But there’s no way I will let her, not after last week.
Mr Pritchett looks my way and raises one dark-grey eyebrow in a silent ‘I won’t be a moment’ gesture. A gust of wind whips around the school building, lifting a few strands of his comb-over. He pats them back into place and turns slightly away from the direction of the wind.
Mike Pritchett has one of those down-turned mouths so he seems sad even when he’s smiling, but he’s a good head teacher and clearly committed to the school and each of its pupils. He’s gone out of his way to help Elise with her extra studying, something that would have cost us a fortune in private tuition.
But five minutes later my patience is running thin. I glance back at the girls. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can tell from their stances and the looks on their faces that they’re bickering, something they rarely do. It’s usually Molly and Elise who fall out, squabbling over something Molly has borrowed without asking or whose turn it is to watch something, and Harrie is stuck in the middle trying to placate them both.
Surely whatever Mr Pritchett wants to discuss can wait until tomorrow, but as I take a step towards the girls, toes like ice blocks, Mr Pritchett ends his conversation with the other parent and she leaves the playground, offering me an apologetic smile as she hurries past.
‘Anna, I’m sorry about that,’ he says, giving a final wave to the other parent. ‘I didn’t mean to keep you but I need to discuss an incident that happened at school today. Harriet was fighting with a boy during lunch break.’
‘Harrie? Are you sure?’ I glance back at my daughter. Her face is bright red and she’s glaring back at me, her expression a deep scowl.
‘Yes. I’m afraid there is no doubt. I was on duty at lunchtime and it was me that stepped in to stop the fight. Harriet was sitting on top of the boy and punching him.’
‘I can’t believe it. Which boy?’
‘Does that matter?’ he asks and I feel my own cheeks redden, as though it is me who is being scolded.
‘No, I guess not. I just—’
‘I’m afraid we’re not allowed to give out that information. We’ve had instances in the past of parents taking matters into their own hands, talking to other children or shouting at parents. It’s better to let the school deal with it. Obviously, we put Harriet on a red warning, which means she will miss play at break and lunch tomorrow. It isn’t the kind of behaviour we expect from our Year Six students and, as you know, we pride ourselves on being a small community school, a family really.’
‘Of course.’ I shake my head. ‘I’m very sorry. I’ll speak to her tonight.’
‘I believe you’re aware that this isn’t an isolated incident. Miss Holloway informed me that Harrie has been pushing other pupils.’
‘I … I only know about the one time last Thursday.’
‘There have been other times. Harrie’s behaviour has been very out of character this week. We’re all concerned about her. Have there been any changes at home?’ he asks.
I sigh and feel the weight of the last seven days pull me down. Where do I start? ‘Their dad didn’t call on Sunday. He normally does and Harrie is worried about him.’ I’m not s
ure if that’s true. The night terrors and the moods started before Rob’s missed call, but it’s all I have to offer Mr Pritchett. ‘It’s no excuse,’ I add quickly.
‘I see,’ the head teacher nods. He makes an effort to rearrange his features into what I think is sympathy and yet the judgement is still wafting off him. I can’t blame him. Fighting is not OK. Not ever, and yet I’m struggling to match what he’s saying with my loving, sweet daughter. Harrie is competitive. Loves sports. Hates cheaters, but she’s never hit anyone before.
‘Please speak to Harrie and make sure she understands that violence cannot be condoned in any school, but especially not a village one like ours. Trust is a big part of our ethos. If it happens again it will be a more serious matter.’
‘I will. There won’t be a next time, I promise.’ My heart is thumping in my chest. The disbelief is contorting into anger. How could Harrie do this? Blood thumps in my ears as I stride back to the girls. They see the look on my face and even Harrie ducks her head. The defiance gone.
‘What on earth were you thinking?’ I hiss at Harrie as we leave the playground.
‘As if you care.’ Harrie’s words are sharp.
‘Of course I care. And you can forget about even asking if you can stay home tonight. I’m not letting you out of my sight.’
‘Mum,’ Elise says from beside me. ‘It wasn’t—’
‘Not now, Elise,’ I mutter. I need a moment to collect my thoughts, to scoop up my anger and make it manageable.
Harrie walks ahead and I let her. Too angry, too stunned, to know what the hell I’m supposed to do.
The desperation to understand what is going on inside my daughter’s head burns through me. Why won’t she tell me? When did I become someone she can’t talk to? I close my eyes for a moment and wish I could unzip her head and pull out her thoughts, her worries, and take them from her.
One thing is for sure – doing nothing is not an option. I can’t sit back and wait for her to come to me. There must be someone else in this village who knows what the hell has happened to my daughter and I’m going to find out. I’ll ask the village mums on the group chat. Someone must have seen something.