‘It will all have to be done again if they’re not found. That’s weeks of work and the printers will want paying for their extra time!’
‘I appreciate that,’ Sarah replied through gritted teeth. ‘They must be here somewhere. Lucy and I will to have to go through every pile of papers until we find them.’
Sarah managed to get rid of Eunice with an assurance that she would send them down immediately they turned up. The last thing she needed was Eunice standing over them, huffing her disapproval. She and Lucy began a systematic search. Wherever they were, the proofs were certainly not obvious. Sarah went through the drawers in her desk while Lucy tried the cupboards. Twenty minutes later, having eliminated every other alternative, they started on the filing cabinets, painstakingly inspecting every folder. Sarah found them in the end, tucked away at the back of the Student Admissions file that she had not touched for weeks.
‘How on earth can they have got in here?’ Sarah caught the look on Lucy’s face. ‘I didn’t put them there,’ she protested.
‘Of course not.’ Lucy’s answer came quickly, though whether she believed Sarah was another matter.
Sarah checked that the proofs were all there, and then sent Lucy to put them straight in Eunice’s hands. Once the door was closed, she slumped at her desk. All this could have had serious repercussions. Finding the documents may have solved one problem, but how on earth had the things got there in the first place? It was just possible that one of the cleaners might have tidied the folder away by putting it on a shelf although it was hard to imagine why anyone should want to take out the contents and file them in the recesses of her cabinet. Had all the recent upsets made her so distracted that she had done it whilst her mind was on something else entirely?
Such a major lapse was just not like her. Even after all the trauma of throwing Nathan out, and God knows that broke her heart in little pieces, she’d been able to function efficiently. It did not make sense that a few phone calls should reduce her to a zombie. There had to be another explanation. Try as she might, she could not think of one.
Chapter 6
Had it not been for Elizabeth, Sarah would probably have done nothing. She knew that Elizabeth would not let the matter rest. Unless she reported it to the police, Elizabeth would offer to go with her to the Station, which was as good as a threat to drag Sarah there screaming and kicking. Even so, it took a couple of days to pluck up the courage to call in at the Swindon Divisional Police Headquarters in Princes Street.
There was a sergeant on the front desk, though not one Sarah had met before. When she asked if it was possible to speak to Inspector Grant, he merely asked for her name in a bored voice. He phoned through the message then, waving her to the padded bench alongside the wall, said the inspector would be with her in a couple of minutes.
Sarah sat for quite a while although, as she had expected to be fobbed off or at least to have to provide a long explanation of why she wished to see the Inspector, for once she was prepared to wait. Given her frenetic lifestyle, patience had never been one of her virtues.
The Inspector’s broad smile seemed genuine as he held open the door and signalled her through. As he ushered her ahead of him down the long corridor, she hoped he would be as pleased when he heard the reason for her visit.
‘I’m afraid someone’s already in the room where we were last time and the other interview rooms are a bit stark, would you mind coming into my office?’
They settled themselves in his small, cluttered room and it came as no surprise to Sarah to see his desk was a shambles, with piles of papers and assorted folders covering every square inch.
He apologised for the mess and got straight down to business. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
Sarah told him about the phone calls. ‘I appreciate that there’s nothing that the police can do but, because it might just be the same person who took my bag, I thought I ought to report it.’
To Sarah’s immense relief, he did not seem to think that she was wasting his time. With the precision of the very untidy, who nonetheless know the exact location of every slip of paper; he extracted her file from the heap and prepared to take notes.
‘Can you remember when they began?’
‘The evening after the attack. Which is why I wondered about a connection.’
‘There’s no regular pattern to the calls?’ She shook her head.
‘Sometimes there’s nothing for two or three days and I think it’s stopped and then he starts up again. At first, I got angry demanding to know who it was and telling him to stop it and slamming down the phone. When I realised that was what he wanted – to get me upset – I stopped saying anything, not even giving my number. That was when the heavy breathing started.’ Despite her resolve, the degree to which the calls were disturbing her was beginning to show. Her voice faltered a little as she told him about the laugh and the breathy voice calling her name.
‘Could it be a student prank?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I doubt it. I’m ex-directory to prevent anything like that.’
He frowned and obvious concern showed in his face. ‘To be honest, it doesn’t sound the sort of thing a petty thief or an opportunist burglar would do.’
She had to agree. She told him how she had tried to ring the number back but the caller must have been using a payphone.
‘Then getting one of these new phones with a display unit won’t be much help. Do you have an answering machine?’ She shook her head. ‘It might not work, however if all he got was a pre-recorded message he would not have the satisfaction of knowing how much he was upsetting you. If you leave it on all the time, you need only pick up the receiver if it’s a genuine call that you want to answer.’
Relief swept through her. It seemed such an obvious solution. He walked back with her along the corridor to the reception area and, as they stood shaking hands, Sarah apologised again for taking up so much of his time.
‘It’s no trouble at all, Mrs Harcourt. Please let me know if it works. Though do remember, a lot of people are put off by answering machines or they won’t want to leave a message, so not all your silent calls will be malicious.’
Sarah hurried along the pavement weaving her way through the mêlée of lunchtime shoppers crowding the High Street. As she turned the corner, she glanced up at the old-fashioned clock hanging outside the jewellers. Seven minutes past! An elderly woman with a dog on a lead came between her and the pedestrian crossing just as the green light began flashing. She swore silently as she stabbed the button and glared at the traffic trundling past.
She could see Elizabeth seated at one of their favourite window tables. The service in Gianni’s was always leisurely and customers were expected to take time savouring each course. The concept of fast food was more than an anathema; it was a sacrilege to all that the restaurant held dear. As a consequence, the place was rarely busy at lunchtime, which made it something of a haven of calm in the town’s usual midday bustle.
‘I’m so sorry. One of my reports went missing. I had it yesterday and I thought I’d left it on my desk but I couldn’t find it anywhere this morning. In the end, I had to print out another copy. Luckily, I had it on disk, though a seventy page document takes forever.’
Elizabeth waved away Sarah’s gabbling protest. ‘You know you don’t have to worry about keeping me waiting.’
‘I knew you’d understand but that’s all the more reason not to abuse our friendship. Thanks for the drink.’ Sarah picked up the glass of orange juice and lemonade Elizabeth already had waiting and took a long, refreshing gulp. ‘Have you ordered?’
‘Not yet, though I think I’ll have my usual.’
Sarah turned and waved to attract the waiter. Even though there were no more than a handful of customers in the place, he was maintaining his distance. ‘I won’t bother with a starter; just the smoked ham tortellini. I can’t afford to be away too long.’
They had almost finished their meal when Elizabeth said, ‘I’m glad to see
you’re looking a bit more like your old self than when you arrived.’
‘Meaning?’ Sarah looked up sharply.
Elizabeth ignored her question and responded with one of her own, ‘Are you still getting the strange phone calls?’ Sarah pulled a face. ‘Then I hope you got in touch with your dishy policeman?’
‘He’s hardly that!’ Sarah laughed. ‘He’s short, bordering on chubby and going grey. But he is very easy to talk to.’
‘It goes with the job.’
‘Not necessarily, as I know to my cost. Not all policemen are sympathetic.’
‘So, did you see him?’
‘I always take your advice. Problem solved.’
‘So, if it’s not that, are you going to tell me what the problem is?’ Elizabeth persisted.
‘I haven’t been my usual efficient self just lately. I went to finish off a document yesterday and it wasn’t on the computer. I must have pressed the wrong button last time I saved it and then the backup was corrupted so I had to start the whole thing again. Everyone is being very understanding and making excuses for me which, to be honest, I’m finding more disconcerting than the usual knives in the back. It makes me feel that I’m not coping any more. Perhaps the job’s getting too much.’
‘Fiddlesticks,’ Elizabeth snorted. Sarah knew she could rely on her friend not to come out with sympathetic platitudes. ‘You’re a fighter, Sarah. You always have been and always will be. You’re the best Principal that place has ever had so go and prove it.’
Sarah gave a low chuckle. ‘You’re good for me; you know that?’
Elizabeth was right; she was a fighter. Something was happening and it was up to her to get to the bottom of it.
Chapter 7
Sarah tapped out the final corrections and hit the print button. As the machine clicked into action, she sat back and listened to the gentle purr. Another job completed. She picked up a pen, pulled her pad across and ran a satisfying black line through one of the items on her list of tasks. Her eye ran down the page to sort out the next priority. Nothing quick and easy. She glanced at the clock. It was only a quarter past ten but it seemed pointless to start something else only to stop for coffee as she was getting into the flow of it.
‘I know it’s a bit early but fancy a drink?’ she asked Lucy as she wandered through.
‘Shall I go and make it?’
‘No. You carry on. I’ve come to a natural break and I need to stretch my legs.’
In the little kitchen at the end of the corridor, she found George hovering by the sink. Sarah had not seen much of him in the two weeks since their little fracas over her computer, and she suspected he’d been avoiding her. He had been decidedly terse at their regular weekly sessions and she suspected it would be sometime before the incident would be forgotten.
‘Good morning, George. How’s life with you?’ she asked doing her best to show that she for one bore no grudges.
He gave a muttered, noncommittal response and continued to stare at the kettle as though willing it to boil more quickly.
‘I wanted to have a word with you about the proposals for the Faculty Review in advance of the Governors’ meeting.’
‘Not all the figures are in yet,’ he put in quickly. ‘I can’t produce the statistics you need until all the faculty directors hand in their reports.’ He gave her a wary look.
‘And no prizes for guessing who’s the culprit,’ she said giving him a broad smile.
‘I have reminded Tom every day for a week now.’ A deep frown furrowed his forehead.
It didn’t take much to imagine the offhand way Tom Appleby had responded to George’s request for him to provide details of the number of students turning up for the courses on which they’d been enrolled. The office had the registration figures, but there was often a considerable discrepancy. Many students, even those on two year courses, failed to put in an appearance, and chasing them up was a lengthy business at a time when lecturers felt they had better things to do. Tom had never been one for paperwork at the best of times and did little to nag his Heads of Department to come up with the information.
‘I’ll have a word with him,’ Sarah promised. He would not give her the run-around that he enjoyed occasionally inflicting on George.
The trouble with Tom was that he had lost interest in the job. In his mid-fifties and, with the coming reorganization of senior positions in the college, he thought he stood a good chance of getting early retirement with a nice enhancement to his pension. There were times when his slipshod methods bordered on negligence although he knew, if he wanted Sarah’s support when the subject came up with the governors, he would have to toe the line with her.
George looked unsure whether to be pleased with her offer or annoyed at her interference.
‘Actually, it wasn’t the figures I wanted to talk about. I’d like to pick your brains about the working party.’
‘Oh yes?’ George looked a fraction happier.
‘I’ve been giving it a lot of thought and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best if I’m not actually a member of the group, however I will need someone there who can keep everyone on track. Obviously, the people we select are each going to have their own agendas so it’s vital that there’s at least one person I can trust to keep the needs of the whole college in mind. I know you’ve a lot on at the moment, nevertheless, I really would appreciate it if you’d consider taking charge.’
‘You want me on the working party?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Mmm,’ she nodded earnestly.
There were times when George needed his ego stroking but she was not sure if she had gone over the top.
‘I’d have thought you’d have preferred someone like Barry.’ Now she was getting to the real problem!
‘Good Heavens no. Why should I want him?’
‘It’s not gone unnoticed that he seems to have your ear at the moment. He’s always in your office these days.’
Sarah wondered if that was the general opinion or George taking the opportunity for a dig.
‘Not at my invitation,’ she said firmly.
‘He’s also very thick with Sir Richard these days and he has his pals on the governing body.’
‘Really? That’s news to me,’ she said truthfully. Sarah had always appreciated that Barry Waterhouse was ambitious, though she had not realised that he had been campaigning quite so actively in high places. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you’re the right person for the job. I need someone I can trust.’
‘I see your point, although, as you said earlier, it is a busy time for me at the moment.’
No more than for the rest of us she thought, but then it would have been foolish to expect George to respond in any other way. He felt he needed to be seen to be doing her a favour. Perhaps she could push just a little more. ‘It does concern me that the group will have to work under the full glare of all the college and I can’t afford to have the whole thing hijacked by members using it as an opportunity to pursue their own interests. And of course, I need someone at the highest level who will be able to report back not only to me but also to the governors.’ It would not hurt to point out the high profile opportunity it would be for him.
‘I suppose there really isn’t anyone else who can be seen to have no axe to grind.’
‘Exactly.’
‘If you put it like that, I’d be happy for you to put my name forward.’ He seemed to grow an inch as he straightened his thin shoulders and smiled down at her benignly.
‘Great. Will you have a think about who else it might be good to have on the working party? Obviously, each faculty must have the chance to nominate a representative but I think we could drop a few hints in the right places. Let’s get together sometime tomorrow?’
‘Certainly and I’ll see what I can find out on the grapevine. We might need to do a bit of damage limitation in case things don’t go quite as we’d wish.’
‘There’re bound to be some difficult characters elected. That’s wh
y I need someone who can handle them,’ she warned. Surely he appreciated that it wasn’t going to be an easy ride?
‘Oh quite,’ he smiled almost slyly. ‘However, I think, between us, we can rise to the challenge.’ With that, he made an exit.
At least something was going right at last. She was back in George’s good books, at least temporarily, and it looked as if some of his old sparkle was coming back. Perhaps all he needed was something to shake him out of his rut.
‘Get a move on, sunshine.’
The driver of the Royal Mail van was oblivious of her scowl and continued to pull out across her path at a speed that a crippled hedgehog could have bettered. Knowing that she would have to battle her way through the morning rush hour traffic to reach the sorting office on the far side of town, Sarah had given herself plenty of time but the stop start journey had not improved her temper. The only consolation was that the complex provided a visitors’ car park even if it was as far from Reception as it was possible to get.
Clutching the card she had discovered pushed through her letterbox on her return the previous evening, she hurried through the glass doors and followed the clearly marked signs. Apart from the natural curiosity of finding out what was in the parcel that the postman had been unable to deliver, she thought she stood a better chance of finding the place less busy than at the end of the day. She turned the corridor and saw an elderly man already standing at the collection point desk. After a minute or so, having lost the little patience she had left, she gave an involuntary sigh, which prompted him to turn and give her a rueful grimace.
‘Have you rung the bell?’ She could hear the implied criticism in her voice so trying to sound more friendly, she added. ‘I’ll be late for work at this rate.’
‘They can’t seem to find my package. I think I know what it is. I’ve been expecting some photographs from my daughter. Our first great-grandchild is nearly a month old.’
All in the Mind Page 4