by Rashad Salim
He sat there in the library and ruminated on everything – his life, Chris, Kate, Nottingham and Binford. He knew he had to make a few phone calls back home and wondered if he should start enquiring about employment opportunities there. He quickly realised it was a pointless speculation.
The whole reason he had moved to Binford was for more money.
He wasn’t making enough in his previous teaching job in Nottingham. To go back now would be a form of quitting, he thought. And he had come too far to turn back now, hadn’t he? If he abandoned his current post and the promotion he was already offered, he’d be going home with nothing. He knew his barely five months of work experience in Binford would be laughed at. And how would he explain it? By telling future employers about the murder attempt he survived? He would never allow it.
He couldn’t live the rest of his life knowing London had beaten him.
That Binford had tried to destroy him and how he had barely gotten out alive.
Tom left the school after lunchtime ended. He had been psyching himself up to do what Kate had been on his back about – call his mother and tell her what had happened.
He would only do it under two conditions.
Firstly, he didn’t want to make the call from home because he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night shifting around his flat and dwelling on the conversation, which he was certain would be upsetting for both his mother and himself.
And secondly, he knew he was going to need a few drinks right after he made the phone call to help him get over it and he wasn’t going to drink alone by himself in his flat. And when he gave it some more thought, maybe he needed a drink before he made the call too.
Therefore, it only made sense to make the call from a pub. And that was where he was now on his way towards.
He knew he could speak to his mum at Kate’s place. It’s what Kate would’ve wanted.
It would mean he wasn’t alone during the aftermath of Chris’ murder and Kate could also spend some quality time with him and talk to his mum, letting her know she was taking care of him.
He knew all this. But he couldn’t do it like that either.
It was hard enough having to break the news to his mum. Letting Kate see him at his weakest would only make him feel worse than already did.
He didn’t know who else knew the reason he survived the attack was because Chris sacrificed himself and Atif defended him by disorienting Chris’ killer by hitting the knifeman with his bag. Both of those acts made Tom ashamed.
He believed he should’ve been the one to defend the student and it had been wrong to let someone take a killing blow meant for him.
12
Tom leaned against an alley wall beside a shitty local pub in Binford. He’d had a few drinks already. More than he had planned to take in before he made the call. But there was nothing he could do about that. He could’ve waited. Made the call later when he felt better but there was no putting it off any longer. He just wanted to get it over and done with.
He checked the time. It was 4:35pm and already dark out.
He pulled his phone out, looked up his mother’s home phone number and clicked ‘send’.
The phone rang a few times before his mother answered.
“Hello, mum? It’s Tom.”
“How are you, pet? Everything fine?”
He winced and continued. “Yeah, I was just calling because I had something to tell you.”
“Oh? What is it?”
He wondered how to phrase it. Someone tried to stab me to death, mum.
“You haven’t heard anything in the news, have you? Something about a teacher being attacked in London?”
“Uh, I can’t remember anything like that. What about it?”
“Well, I’ll tell you but you’ve got to promise me you won’t panic.”
“What’s the matter, Tom? You’re making me worried now.”
This is precisely why he had been dreading making the phone call.
“Look, I’m okay, mum. Don’t worry. I just wanted you to hear it from me before someone made a horror story out of it.”
“I see... go on.”
Tom took a deep breath. “One of my fellow teachers was killed yesterday.”
“Oh, my... what in god... I told you those schools in London were dangerous! Didn’t I?”
Tom grimaced. “They’re not all bad, mum.”
“No. Just the one where you work!”
“Look, it’s never happened before.”
“How did this happen, Tom? Was it a student? It was, wasn’t it?”
“No, no-”
“You know they all carry knives!”
“Mum, it wasn’t like that. Anyway, this happened after school. The school was empty.”
“...Thank god for that... just think of the poor children.”
“I know.”
“This is just terrible news. Absolutely terrible. I can’t believe it. This teacher, did you know him well?”
Tom swallowed hard. “Yeah, I did. He was my friend. His name was Chris. I think I told you about him before.”
“I’m so sorry, pet. I can imagine how upset you must be.”
“Listen, mum. I’ve gotta go now but I just wanted to tell you I’m alright, okay? You don’t need to worry about me, no matter what you see on the news.”
“...Alright, love. You look after yourself. Take care now.”
“You too.”
“And stay in touch!”
“I will mum, take care, bye.”
He hung up and looked at his phone. Could’ve been worse, he thought.
Then again, he had left out the part about how he had been with Chris when he was killed.
13
By the time Tom reached his neighbourhood it was dark and the streets were empty.
The flat he lived in was the ground floor of a two storey semi-detached block of flats. His neighbours on his left side - who also lived in a same size flat as his - were an old Chinese couple. They were nice people but in the six months he had been living in Binford, he had hardly spoken to them for longer than it took to say hello.
John Thompson, his unruly neighbour, lived in the house on Tom’s right side. He was glad there was a ten foot-wide gap between their homes but still wished it had been wider.
He was near the front gate to his flat when a woman stepped out of a car and blocked his path.
He stopped in his tracks, startled by her sudden appearance. She was white, in her late twenties and wore an ID card attached by a lanyard around her neck.
“Tom Smith?” she asked.
He looked at her suspiciously. “Yes?”
“My name’s Tina Wilson. I’m with the Binford Post.”
Tom groaned. He had no intention of speaking with any journalists.
“I was wondering if we could talk about your experience yesterday. I promise it won’t take up much of your time.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to talk to the press,” he said and stepped around her.
“Is that the school’s decision?” she asked behind him.
“No, mine.”
“I just wanted to ask you a few questions, Mr Smith,” she said. “It won’t take more than a few minutes.”
“Sorry, I’m not interested.” He walked through his front gate.
“How do you feel about the lack of staff safety in Binford schools?”
“Go away.” He walked up the steps to his front door.
“Do you think Chris Jones’ killers were students at Binford School?” she called out from the front gate.
“Fuck off already,” he said, with his back to her.
He heard her walk away and felt relieved now she was gone.
“She ain’t the only slag hanging about here today.”
He turned to see John Thompson standing at his doorway, bottle in hand as always.
Tom was about to ignore him and go inside when John spoke out again.
“Had the old bill come down, ya know?”
Tom looked at him, saw him sneering.
“Someone came at you with a sword, did they?” John asked.
“Where did you hear that?” Tom asked, wondering how much the police had told him.
“Them journo’s been out here all day. Coming and going. Waiting for you. I had a little chat with some of them. Told me all about what happened.” He sat down and played with the bottle. “See, it’s funny. First I had some copper come around asking me all these questions about where I was yesterday. He’s got all these questions for me but he’s keeping schtum. Eventually, he fucks off and them slags from the papers show up. And they’re asking me all kinds of shit about you and tell me about how some teacher got killed yesterday.” John started laughing. “You know what? When they first asked me if I’d heard about the murder, I thought you was the one carved up!”
“That must’ve made your day, hey?”
John let his laughter subside. “Ah, I tell you what I told them though.” He raised the bottle in the air, aimed it and threw it down to the other end of his garden, letting it smash against the concrete ground. “I said I ain’t surprised someone tried to kill you.”
Tom nodded with sarcasm.
“I mean, think about it,” John said. “Who fucking likes teachers anyway?”
Tom took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to swear at him.
“Just think about it! And a place like this – full of pakis! Just look around you. What are we, the last real Englishmen left in this town?”
“Alright,” Tom said and looked away.
This was the longest conversation he’d had with John in the six months he had been living here and it was too much for him. He reached for his keys and couldn’t wait to get inside.
“That’s what I don’t get. Why’s the police knocking on my fucking door when it’s obvious it was a bunch of pakis who did that yesterday?”
Tom looked at John and saw him glaring.
“I was here when all that went down,” John said. “I don’t know nothing about any of that bollucks. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with the old bill popping around, did ya?”
“...Since you don’t know anything about it, you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?”
John gave him an icy stare.
Tom had had enough of this. He went inside and wondered what the likelihood was that John had been part of the attack on him and Chris. He had to admit it was unlikely.
He thought John got one detail right about the crime. It was most definitely an Asian youth’s voice he heard from one of them – the one who had urged his fellow attackers to retreat. And since John so clearly despised Asians, what were the chances he would be connected to the attackers?
14
The next day Tom woke up late. He moped around the flat for a few hours, not knowing what to do with himself. Eventually, he decided to go to the local police station to see DS Barker.
He wanted to know how much progress the police had made in the investigation and if they had anything on any of the people he had suspected were behind the attack, especially Gilbert Waters or John Thompson.
He had told Barker at the end of their first meeting that he would want to be kept in the loop and be informed of any major developments in the investigation. Although Barker made no guarantees of solving the crime within a certain timeframe – or even claiming the crime would definitely be solved - he gave in to Tom’s demand that he would inform him immediately.
It was the afternoon now and he hadn’t heard from anyone – not Woolrich or Barker. He knew it was still early. Not even 48 hours had passed since the crime had occurred but he was told most investigations made most of their progress within the first two days and he was eager to find out what the police had so far.
He drove to Binford Police Station at the other end of town. During his journey he scanned the streets as he passed them. He observed the various hoodlums that littered the street corners outside off licenses and they reminded him of his attackers.
He parked the car as close to the station as possible, hoping this meant it was in a safe parking spot, and got out. He had never been to a police station before and the feeling that came over him as he walked into the reception area was one of great apprehension.
He approached the front desk and asked to see DS Barker. He gave his name and said he was from Binford School before taking a seat to wait for the detective. He studied all the posters surrounding him while he waited. There was a lot to indicate Binford had a high crime rate and the various police propaganda posters did little to convince Tom that the police had it under control.
Tom waited for almost an hour before DS Barker showed up.
The officer entered the reception area and greeted Tom before leading him away down a corridor and into a small room. They sat a table facing each other.
“Let me assure you, Tom, we’re working around the clock on this.”
“I’m sure you are. I just came to find out if you had found out anything yet.”
“We’re still going over the evidence from the crime scene. I’ve gotta be honest with you, Tom. There wasn’t much found from the attackers. DNA traces were elusive – nothing we could tie to the attackers since it was in such a public place. And what we were riding our hopes on – the getaway car – we couldn’t get anything from the CCTV cameras since both front and rear plates were covered with black tape. As for following the vehicle through various local CCTV cameras in places the car may have passed – well, that’s still something we’re looking into but it’s a long shot.”
“Do you have any suspects yet? Anyone in particular you already know who might be a good fit for the attack?”
“That’s something we’re still looking into. We’ve got officers and other personnel scouring our databases and databases from other departments, looking for likely suspects. Also, we’re using all our resources to work with local sources – informants, if you will – people who might know something about the people behind the attack.”
Tom nodded. He was pleased the police were busy investigating but he still hadn’t been told anything solid yet.
“What about that list I gave you? You said you were gonna chase it up and look into those people. I know you already spoke to my neighbour.”
Barker smiled. “Was he sore about that?”
“Not sore enough.”
“He say anything to you?”
“Just a bit of moaning when he saw me coming home yesterday. Nothing serious.”
Barker nodded. “Well, his alibi isn’t that strong. He claimed he was at home alone and no one else could confirm his location at the time the crime occurred.” Tom took that into consideration. “And as I said before, if he wanted to harm you, I really doubt he’d use the approach of your attackers. Most neighbour feuds that escalate to something like this usually have one neighbour attacking the other near his home. But don’t worry, we haven’t ruled him out just yet. We’ve still got our eye on him.”
“What about the others? Mobeen, Marcus and Zafar?”
“Ah, the disgruntled former students. They were the ones I was most interested in. I spoke to their families with mixed results.”
“As in?”
“Well, of the three of them, Zafar was the only one we could find. We spoke to him in detail and he had an alibi. He was out of town with some friends at the time of the crime.”
“What happened to Marcus and Mobeen?”
“Unfortunately, we couldn’t locate them. Both of them had left home.”
“Recently?”
“No, they’ve been estranged from their families for quite a while. Mobeen’s mother says she hears from him roughly every week whereas Marcus’ mother hasn’t seen or heard from him in months, probably since you had him kicked out.”
Tom took it all in, evaluated all this information and tried to understand what it might mean.
“Mobeen and Marcus are unaccountable, John and Zafar have alibis?”
“Se
ems that way.”
“What about Gilbert Waters? Tell me you got something new you can pin on him.”
Barker snorted. “I wish. But he’s clean. He left his past life behind. Turned over a new leaf about a decade ago when he was released from prison.”
“And they let him work at a school?” Tom shook his head.
“Regardless of what you may have heard, according to the facts Waters has shown himself to be fully rehabilitated – unlike others of his ilk. He was never a threat to children and he’s earned his freedom.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“One of the other senior officers on the investigation spoke to him yesterday. At the time the crime occurred he was with some cleaners at the other end of the school. Not that there was a chance he was one of the scrawny attackers, mind you.”
“And you don’t think he was involved?”
“I think he’s made a lot of enemies in his life. Many other men who have done a lot worse to him than reporting him for drinking on the job. If he was gonna be out for revenge, he wouldn’t be wasting his time with you.”
15
Tom left the police station having learnt very little but took consolation in what he had learnt. Marcus and Mobeen were still unaccounted for and that made him feel uneasy.
He checked the time and saw he still had a chance to speak to Atif before classes finished for the day as long as he hurried straight to the sixth form.
He had to find out more about Heena’s older brother Shazad and it couldn’t be done without Atif’s assistance. Going directly to Heena would only rouse her suspicion and he didn’t think the girl had even considered her brother as a suspect in the attack.
When he reached the sixth form he went straight to the common room. He walked in and scanned the room for Atif and Heena. He tried to think. The two of them were probably in a class at that moment. The problem was he had no idea which one and where it was. He was searching for these two students without a legitimate reason and so he had to be as discreet as possible.