He took off his jacket, folded it and placed it on Mrs Vicks’ desk before casually propping himself up on the edge of it. He looked round the two rows of faces – blondes, brunettes, auburn-haired teenagers, all devoid of makeup, with Alice bands and slides, freckles and glasses and open textbooks in front of them. He knew what he was doing as he glanced from one to the next, all the while his mind picturing Amy Fulford as the girl from the missing desk.
‘Which one of you is Serena Newman?’
They were very nervous, glancing sideways without moving their heads. Sitting in the back row, Serena put up her hand.
‘Stand up please.’
Serena stood up, chewing at her lips. He smiled to put her at ease and asked her to come to the front as she was very important, and then to tell the class exactly what happened on the Saturday when she was with Amy. He knew already, but wanted to watch the girls’ reactions.
Serena was a very attractive girl, not in the same league as Amy, but she was quite confident as she asked if he wanted her to start from when they were both collected from school that day.
‘Please explain in detail everything that you remember from driving out of the gates here to your home. The smallest detail might be significant. Let me give you an example: was Amy chatty and friendly, knowing she was going to be spending the weekend, a sleepover with you – right? That’s what you call it, a sleepover . . . ?’
‘Yes, and we had arranged it for quite a while, and when we got home—’
‘Hang on, hang on – was she wearing her school uniform, what was she carrying, an overnight bag, a satchel? Come on, Serena, start from the top again. I want you to think like a detective having to recall every single detail.’
‘Okay, we both had uniforms on, but not our hats, and she had an overnight bag, with her nightdress and change of clothes.’
Reid nodded encouragingly as she continued, even describing what CD they asked Mrs Newman to play in the car, and how they had sung along together. The girls were attentive, and he watched as Serena got into her stride, almost as if she was enjoying being the centre of attention. Slowly he began to monitor their reactions. After a while a couple leaned their elbows on their desks, chins held in their hands, and not one appeared bored or even restless. They listened intently as Serena explained about going to the cinema, but Amy had said she wanted to get her watch from her father’s flat, and that she would meet her later.
Serena paused and turned to Reid. ‘I waited most of the afternoon at home after I washed my hair, but when Amy finally texted me that she wasn’t going to come to the cinema I called some of my friends from my old school and they said they could come. Afterwards we had a hamburger and fries and when I got home I called Amy’s mobile again but it was on voicemail. I think my mum called her mum, but no one answered at her house. I came back to school on the Sunday and I brought her overnight bag with me as it had her school clothes in it.’
Reid nodded and she was about to return to her desk when he put out a hand. ‘Serena was one of the last people we know to have seen Amy since she left her house in Fulham on the Saturday. Since then not one person, not one single person has seen Amy Fulford. It is as if she disappeared into thin air, so now—’ A red-haired girl put up her hand.
‘Yes, Miss . . . ?’
‘Allard, Georgina Allard. I know that Amy’s watch was from Cartier and it was engraved with her name and she was given it for her birthday by her mother.’
Reid clapped his hands. ‘Terrific, good girl – that is a very valuable piece of information. So how do you know about her watch?’
‘She showed it to me; she didn’t have a birthday party because she was away abroad with her mother. Amy said it was extra-special because it was a Cartier and very expensive.’
‘Anyone else have such an expensive watch?’
There was a murmur as several girls said they hadn’t got Cartier watches but a couple admitted they had very nice ones. He asked if anyone felt that Amy was showing off, and there were shrugs and more murmurs and then the same red-haired girl said that her sister had one and it had diamonds. It was taking time, but he was encouraging the girls to be more open about how they felt towards Amy and now they freely looked to each other, whispered and hid behind their hands. They no longer sat prudishly behind their desks, but swung their legs to the side, leaning back and forth to confer with each other. Amy was always top of the class, Amy was always chosen first when picking sports teams and was in the hockey, netball and water polo teams and she had even been given the best roles in their plays at the end of each term. The green-eyed monster of envy reared its head as one after another related an anecdote about the missing girl. It was if they had forgotten the reason he was there as he encouraged them and laughed. By now Serena had returned to her desk and sat on top of it, knees drawn up. She was obviously a class leader and prompted a number of the girls to recall some incident or other that was derogatory about Amy.
Reid was surprised that Mrs Vicks remained silent, though he could see that she was frowning in disapproval. He gestured towards Serena, remarking that although she’d invited Amy for a sleepover he wondered if Serena didn’t really like her. She flushed, which made her look even prettier, and gave a pursed-lipped look to the rest of the girls. ‘Nobody particularly likes her and I am speaking the truth. She is a liar and very secretive; we are not supposed to have our mobile phones after nine o’clock – we have to put them in the phone box, it’s a house rule, but she is always using hers even after lights out.’
‘Does she have a boyfriend?’
There was a snigger and the girls covered their mouths as one or two guffawed, but when Mrs Vicks tutted they went quiet. Reid felt he had been patient long enough and now his friendly act dropped.
‘Listen to me. Amy Fulford has been missing for six days and nights, we have found no trace of her and her parents are desperate for news. If any of you know of a boyfriend, or someone she was in contact with, now is your chance to tell me. I don’t care if you liked or disliked her, I am not interested whether you were envious of her, but if you know anything that can help me find her I need to know now. It will not go against you and I will endeavour to keep any secrets you’ve not dared tell anyone.’
They stared back at him, and it was not just frustrating but actually infuriating. Serena got down from her desktop and sat behind it. Reid was shocked as she banged the lid of her desk, and within seconds a couple of the other girls started lifting their desk lids and banging them shut. Mrs Vicks clapped her hands and they quickly returned to sitting quietly like sweet innocent girls. Reid picked up his jacket, and before Mrs Vicks could say anything he gestured for her to come outside the classroom.
In the corridor Reid put on his jacket. ‘Mrs Vicks, I think one or other of Amy’s classmates knows something that might help me to trace her, but they are either refusing to admit it or afraid to tell me.’
‘I sincerely doubt that; they are all very good girls and from very good homes. Perhaps the only thing they may be withholding is that Amy Fulford was a very quiet difficult girl to get to know; she was exceptionally clever and at times it felt as if she was much older.’
‘You are using the past tense, Mrs Vicks.’
Her plump hands flew to her cheeks. ‘Oh my God. I didn’t mean to do that. I am so sorry.’
‘So am I, Mrs Vicks, because if we discover that any of the girls are withholding information and haven’t spoken up this morning, there will be serious consequences.’
He turned to walk down the corridor as Mrs Vicks called loudly to a girl that she should return to her class.
‘I need to use the bathroom, Mrs Vicks.’
‘Very well, straight there and back, Alice. I will be timing you.’
Reid slowed his steps, the classroom door closed, and he heard the soft footfall of the girl behind him. As she approached he recognized her as the small quiet girl who had been sitting behind Serena. As she passed him she threw him a small rolle
d-up piece of paper and continued along the corridor into the toilets. He unfolded it and saw that written in a hurried scrawl were the words ‘Facebook – Slut Shaming’.
He paused a moment in the hope Alice would come out, but she didn’t and so he headed down the stairs to the ground floor. He made it to the exit of the complex but was then at a loss as to which way he should continue, until he saw one of the painted arrows to the art studio and recalled Detective Lane mentioning a Miss Polka. He decided he would see if she was available and made his way along a narrow path, following a second arrow pointing towards a glass-sided building with STUDIO in black letters over double French windows.
Peering through, he saw something that astonished him. There was a semi-nude female model on a draped couch and eight girls sitting with big white pads on easels sketching her. He shook his head; if that had been on offer at his grammar school he would have definitely taken up art as a subject. Suddenly a voice behind him asked what he thought he was doing.
He whipped round in embarrassment. ‘I am so sorry, I am Detective Inspector Reid and—’
The woman interrupted him. ‘They are finishing their class in a few moments and I don’t want them disturbed. Miss Harrington said you were here, so let me finish up and if you continue round this path and turn left there is a cottage at the end of it. The door is open so please let yourself in – it’s lunch time in a few minutes so we can talk there in private without interruption.’
He thanked her and she gave him a lovely smile. DS Lane had said she was very attractive but he was taken aback by just how gorgeous she was. She had what he would describe as Marilyn Monroe hair, that thick curly platinum-blonde, wide blue eyes and a small straight nose and then a mouth not covered in garish red lipstick but pink and natural. He had not had time to take in what she was wearing as he had been so struck by her face. As he walked to her cottage he laughed to himself as she must have first thought of him as some kind of peeping tom. Even though it was later than he had anticipated being at the school, he had no intention of leaving until he had talked to Miss Polka.
Arriving at the cottage, he let himself in just as the sound of the dinner bell could be heard from the main building. While he had been unable to see what the rest of Miss Polka looked like as he had been so smitten by her face, he now had every opportunity, as lining the small hallway were numerous photographs of her. A couple were of her posed naked like a Greek statue and she was breathtakingly pretty. Although the photos looked as if they had been taken a few years ago, he couldn’t resist examining them more closely, with the result that he was caught out yet again as she walked in and he flushed with embarrassment as she laughed.
‘I see you’ve found me. That was taken a while back, Sonoran Desert, Mexico.’
She ushered him into a small sitting room with more portraits of her, and again she laughed.
‘I used to live with the artist – nobody wanted to buy them so I kept them all here. Now let me make us a sandwich and put on some fresh coffee.’
‘Thank you, I’d like that.’
She cocked her head to one side, her expression suddenly very serious. ‘I need to talk to you about Amy; she is sadly missed. If you’re interested, there’s some of her work over on the window seat.’
The folder was made of cardboard with a red cord around it, and as he untied it some of the sketches fell onto the floor. They were in charcoal, smudged like shadows, and appeared to be of grotesque skeletons. Two were what he realized must be self-portraits, but both were incomplete, as if Amy had deliberately intended drawing only part of her face and leaving the other side blank. They were very good, but also quite unnerving. He couldn’t help but wonder why she had chosen to leave her face incomplete.
Chapter 20
Miss Polka carried in a tray of sandwiches and two mugs of coffee, with milk and sugar on the side. She was wearing a simple pale blue shirt tied at the waist with a patent leather belt and a full circular skirt of some soft material.
‘Sorry, did I make you jump?’ she said, smiling, and then indicated her black ballet pumps.
‘I always wear these as I am on my feet for most of the day. A long time ago I wanted to be a ballet dancer, but as often with teenage dreams I never had the opportunity or probably the inclination to put in the amount of hard work it takes to be an accomplished dancer.’
She moved like one, passing him a plate with a napkin and offering him his mug of coffee, then spooning in the two sugars he asked for. She placed a small round table beside him, so he was able to put down his plate and drink his coffee easily. It was strong, and the tuna mayonnaise and salad sandwich on crusty brown bread was delicious. She sat to one side of him on a small round cushioned stool.
‘This is just what I needed, Miss Polka.’
‘Please, it’s Jo, short for Josephine. Just so you know, I don’t often allow any of the pupils to be here, it’s sort of frowned on, even more so if Miss Harrington were to see all my nudity on display. It’s my private little domain and I don’t have any other place during term time, but during breaks I travel as much as possible.’
He nodded, remarking that he had always felt teachers had it cushy with so many holidays, unlike himself. She smiled and gave a small nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, saying that if teachers’ wages were higher then she would agree with him.
‘I find Amy’s artwork a bit disturbing,’ he confessed, finishing his sandwich.
‘Yes, but she is very talented, extremely versatile – some of her fabric designs are excellent and her still lifes even more so.’
She nibbled at her sandwich, and then nodded to the portfolio. ‘They were done last term. I have hopes of her working in oils or acrylic, but she seems to avoid colours – even her fabric designs are always in black and white.’
‘Why has she left half her face unfinished?’
‘I don’t know – she certainly was able to sketch her own likeness.’
‘Yes, I recognized her straight away.’
‘She is a very beautiful girl, very tall and slender, but I think her inability to make the usual schoolgirl attachments saddens her.’
‘Attachments?’
She seemed flustered. ‘By that I mean making friends – she is very much a loner, and it concerns me because it makes her appear very aloof, as if she is much older than the other girls in her class.’
‘You like her?’
Miss Polka nodded and turned away from him. He sipped his coffee, watching her, and got the feeling she wanted to tell him something but was avoiding it. Eventually she spoke quietly.
‘What do you think has happened to her?’
‘I honestly don’t know. As you are probably aware she had a sleepover with Serena Newman, but said she was going to her father’s place in Mayfair and no one has seen her since.’
‘I found it odd that she would even agree to staying at Serena’s – not that I have anything against her, but they were never what I would call close friends.’
‘I was just with Amy’s class and it became evident Serena is a bit envious of her,’ he suggested.
‘Well Amy does not cultivate friendships, and when I said she is a talented artist, she is also academically very clever, as well as athletically. In fact, everything she does she accomplishes with ease and never appears to need to work at it; she’s also very adult and sophisticated for her age.’
‘Do you think she is sexually aware?’
Miss Polka blinked rapidly and wafted her hand. The question seemed to throw her, as she stood up and asked if he would like a top-up of coffee. He declined and she sat down again, hugging her knees and lowering her head so he could not see her face.
‘Why did you ask me that?’ She still did not look at him.
‘There is a possibility that Amy is being or has been abused, but I am unable to give you any details.’
He delved into his pocket and drew out the crumpled paper from his pocket. ‘Do you know about something called cyber-bullying on
Facebook?’
‘I know that it goes on, of course. You know what teenagers are like. They live for their social network sites and Facebook pages, and even if they are being bullied, cyberbullied, they can’t tear themselves away. Of course you can’t actually post anonymously on Facebook, but that doesn’t stop the bullies setting up fake accounts, specifically to post nasty comments on girls they are bullying. And then there’s this website called ask fm that they can connect to through their Facebook accounts. You can set up a profile and invite comments about yourself, and those comments are anonymous, and they can be really vicious.’
‘You’re very well informed,’ he said quietly.
She was running her fingers through her curly hair, still hunched on the low stool.
‘I think Amy was being bullied, cyberbullied, and I’m worried that it might have been the reason she has run away.’
‘You never mentioned it to the detectives that came here.’
‘No, but there is a reason. You see, the girls are not allowed iPads, just their mobile phones to call home. The rules are there for obvious reasons, and God only knows what they would otherwise be watching on the internet under their duvet covers.’
She began to pluck at her skirt, and was becoming agitated, as if she couldn’t keep her hands still.
‘Did she say anything about being bullied on Facebook?’
Miss Polka shook her head, sprang up and picked up the tray of dirty crockery and walked out. It was very frustrating, but just as he was about to follow her, his mobile rang. It was DS Lane. Reid went into the hallway to take the call.
‘We’ve got something off the CCTV footage the vice squad handed over. We have a clear picture of Amy Fulford standing on the pavement in South Audley Street for over five minutes, we’ve got a fucking punter stopping and she leans over as if talking to him, and then he speeds off; we’ve got the registration, she is wearing school uniform and the date was three weeks before she went missing.’
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