by Sophie King
‘No. Just tell me where it is and I’ll come straight back. You can’t leave the kids anyway.’
He nodded in reluctant recognition of what she was saying.
‘Stand at the door and you can see me going down the corridor. I’ll come straight back, I promise.’
He hesitated.
‘If I was your mum you’d let me go, wouldn’t you?’ said Evie, gently.
It was working. She could see it in his face.
‘Go on, then. But be quick. Turn left and left again. If you don’t come back in two minutes, I’m coming in after you.’
Evie didn’t need telling twice. Left and left again. The corridor was empty.
God, these lavatories were in a filthy state. The girls had moaned about them but she hadn’t realised just how bad they were, with loo paper strewn around the floor and tampons in the washbasins. Half the locks didn’t work. Eventually she found one that did. Amazing, really, that the boy hadn’t checked her for a phone. Quickly she texted Robin’s number, noticing as she did so that she’d missed another call, the second that day from someone who hadn’t left a number.
Her fingers flew across the keypad.
Ct in sch siege. Rm H. Jk in car. Help.
It was all she had time for. Would he get it? Where would he be if and when he got it? She’d rather have texted her dad but he didn’t have a mobile and she couldn’t risk speaking in case that boy had followed her in.
She squatted – anything not to touch that disgusting seat – and did what she was desperate to do. She hadn’t, she thought wryly, lied about her weak bladder. Then, having rinsed her hands (no soap), she ventured back into the corridor. The door was open on the left. She could make a dash for it, but if she did what would happen to the classroom of kids and, most importantly, Leonora? That boy was so irrational he might do anything to them. Besides, despite what he’d said about Jack, common sense told her he was all right. They wouldn’t be able to get into the car. She’d locked it. The windows were shatterproof, and if they tried to break them the alarm would go off.
As she walked briskly back to the classroom, she heard voices. A beautiful West Indian girl was standing on the stairs, arguing with a spotty youth, a different one from the kid in Room H. ‘Ring someone, Jason. You’ve got to ring someone.’
‘I have, Julie. Calm down. If you make a fuss, it will all go wrong and people will get hurt. Trust me.’
They looked at her and Evie froze. Did they have guns? Would they try to knife her? But the couple on the stairs seemed as scared by her appearance as she was by theirs.
‘Quickly,’ said the boy, tugging at the girl’s arm. ‘You can’t do anything and I’m not having you getting hurt. Come on. The others will be here to help soon.’
They ran out of sight. The classroom door opened and the spotty youth emerged. ‘Get back in,’ he ordered. Powerless, she obeyed.
36
NICK AND HARRIET
‘Are you reading me? Are you reading me?’
Nick tried to listen to the crackling radio on the policeman’s chest as he was marched back from the school gates to the car park. But all he could hear was a network of unclear voices.
‘Calm down, sir, or I’ll have to take you in.’
‘Let go of me.’ Nick threw off the policeman’s arm as they approached the orange cordon. ‘My daughter’s in there! What if it was your kid?’
‘I understand how you feel, sir, but you’re hindering our procedures by trying to get into the building. Everything is under control.’
‘Then why the hell aren’t you doing something about it?’
The policeman – young under his helmet – appealed to Harriet with his eyes for help.
‘Nick, he’s right. Just stay here for a bit and let the police do their work. If we all start running in, the kids will get scared and do something daft.’ She was shivering.
‘Take my coat. Here.’ Nick wrapped his Barbour round her.
‘Thanks.’
Her teeth were still chattering, he observed. It was the shock. He’d been the same when he found Juliana on the bed, lifeless, her beautiful eyes staring blindly at the ceiling.
‘Come on. We’ll sit in the car. We can listen to the radio and get you a bit warmer.’
He’d brought the van this afternoon, rather than the Fiesta. His equipment was in the back with Mutley, who licked Harriet enthusiastically.
She stroked him. ‘The children would love a dog but Charlie won’t allow it.’
‘Why?’
‘The mess. Commitment. Usual things.’
‘I can’t stand people like that,’ said Nick.
‘Nor me. I mean – well, I didn’t mean I can’t stand my husband but . . . it’s so boring and unimaginative. Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start blubbing.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Nick, and gave her a hug. Had he really just done that? ‘Here, have some bog roll.’ He handed her some blue lavatory paper from the van’s side pocket.
Harriet blew her nose, which was red but not unattractively so. ‘It’s not just the children.’ She sniffed. ‘Well, it is, but it’s Charlie too. I still don’t know where I am. He says the break in Dubai has made him realise he wants to start again, but he doesn’t show me any affection. And I’m beginning to wonder if . . . well, if there is anyone else.’
‘He says there isn’t?’
‘Yes. And I believe him. He wouldn’t lie to me, I know he wouldn’t. None of it makes sense.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Nick was unscrewing the top of a bulky Thermos flask, the kind that took food too. He didn’t trust himself to say anything. Just because he hadn’t liked the furtive look on Harriet’s husband’s face in the car didn’t mean he was a liar. ‘Want a drink?’
Harriet shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’
‘It’s not coffee. Go on, take a nip.’
She didn’t normally drink whisky but it was surprisingly warming.
‘It’s good.’ She smiled. ‘A bit like Wibena.’
‘Wibena?’
‘It’s a joke my friend Pippa and I have. It’s when you drink wine out of a mug so the kids think you’re drinking Ribena because it’s only twelve o’clock and too early, theoretically, to drink the real stuff.’
Nick smiled. ‘I like that.’ He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Maybe it was the situation that had thrown them together or maybe it was her kind eyes, but he felt able to talk to this woman. ‘Two years ago today my wife died.’
Harriet swallowed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Our daughter thinks she had cancer. But she didn’t. She had bulimia to begin with. And later, anorexia topped up with a handful of pills she swallowed when I was out.’ He laughed hoarsely. ‘I was always trying to get her to eat properly. I just didn’t think she’d eat my sleeping tablets.’
‘Bulimia? Anorexia?’ Harriet’s eyes opened. ‘You’re not talking about Juliana? I knew her.’
Nick stared at her. ‘You did?’
‘From the PTA. I just hadn’t realised you were her husband. She was lovely.’
He nodded.
‘Not just because of her looks,’ added Harriet. ‘She was a really nice person. I joined when the kids were little. She used to talk about getting back into modelling.’
‘That was what killed her.’ Nick took another swig. ‘No one wanted her. She was too old. Not thin enough. I even helped her go on a diet . . .’
‘And now you think it’s your fault.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘The irrational bit of me would. But it’s not true, you know. If someone wants to stop eating, there’s not a lot you can do about it.’
‘You sound very sure.’
‘I am. I went through a stage like that in my teens when my parents split up.’
‘I’m sorry. What got you out of it?’
‘Realising I wouldn’t get to university unless I got better. It gave me a goal.’
Nick glanced at her. ‘You’re still very sl
im.’
‘I always stop eating when I’m upset. Like now.’
‘Are you going to have it out with him? Find out what’s really wrong?’
‘I’ve tried. He won’t talk.’
Nick laughed shortly. ‘Typical man. Go on – you were going to say that, weren’t you?’
Harriet smiled. ‘Yes. I wrote to you, you know, after Juliana died. You probably don’t remember. You must have had loads of letters. But I told you how kind she was to me. I was going through some problems with my son at the time – still am, actually – and she gave me some advice. She said her daughter was strong-willed too.’
‘She is. Just like her mother. I’ve probably been over-protective but I just want her to be all right.’ His eyes felt unbearably heavy. ‘She’s learning to drive, for God’s sake! Suppose something happens to her? I couldn’t bear it if she went, like Juliana.’
‘I can identify with that,’ said Harriet quietly. ‘I hate the kids crossing the road on their own and I’ve often thought how hard it’s going to be when they’re teenagers. But remember when we were that age? We thought we were so grown-up – and although we did some daft things, we survived.’
He felt a ridiculous urge to reach out and hold her hand. ‘That’s true.’
She leaned back against her seat, eyes closed. ‘You’ve got to keep communication open with teenagers. I fell out with my dad when I was a bit older than your daughter and now I regret it. I hardly ever see him.’
‘What a shame.’
She shrugged. ‘It was half and half. Bringing up kids isn’t easy. Bruce is a real challenge to me. He’s so strong-willed – like Charlie, only neither of them recognises it.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘Suppose Bruce tries to stand up to those big boys. They’ll hurt him . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
Somehow Nick found himself pressing her to him, patting her back comfortingly as he’d patted Julie’s when she was a baby. To his amazement, he could feel her relaxing into him. Reluctantly, he pulled away. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ She turned her head away so he couldn’t read her face. ‘You’ve really helped me.’
‘And you me.’
For a while they sat in silence.
I’ve been wrapping Julie up in cotton wool, Nick told himself. Harriet was right. If he didn’t cut her some slack, she might just go off and do her own thing. He should be more honest about his own needs too. She was nearly eighteen, surely old enough to understand. And maybe Harriet had a point about food phobias: if someone wanted to stop eating, there was little anyone could do about it until the sufferer had learned to change his or her own mind.
‘I’d like to learn how to take photographs – properly,’ said Harriet, suddenly.
Nick’s eyes were focused ahead, straining to see what was happening. ‘Then why don’t you do a course? There are plenty on offer.’
‘I might. Next term. Oh, God, Nick, will there be another term? Are the kids going to be all right?’
He put his arm round her again. The warmth of her body was comforting. Reassuring. Natural. This time he didn’t pull away. ‘Yes, Harriet. They are. They’ve got to be.’
37
PIPPA
‘And now it’s request time for the canteen staff of City Hospital. They want us to play “Food Glorious Food” and they want to know what you patients think of the meals you’re getting.’
Funny. She hadn’t remembered putting her headphones on. Had someone done it for her?
‘Pippa, look what someone’s sent you!’
Still sleepy from her nap, she tried to focus on the nurse, who held the most enormous bouquet of stargazers that Pippa had ever seen. Lilies were her favourite. ‘Smelly flowers’, Lucy called them, when Derek occasionally brought them home as a treat. How like him to send them when he could have just brought them in.
‘Has my husband been back?’
Something she couldn’t read crossed the nurse’s face. ‘Not yet. He rang to say he might be a bit delayed.’
‘Why?’
‘He didn’t say.’
Uneasily, Pippa read the card: ‘Pippa dearest. Get well soon. All my love. Gus.’ She ripped the card into tiny pieces. ‘Take them away.’
‘What?’
‘Take the flowers away. I don’t bloody want them.’
The nurse gave her a strange look and picked up the bouquet. ‘Where shall I put them?’
‘I don’t care. The bin. The morgue. Someone’s bed. Just get them out of here.’
Pippa waited until the nurse had gone, then turned towards the wall, tears running down her face. How could Gus be so tactless? If he wasn’t more careful, Derek would find out and her marriage would be over. Providing she hadn’t received her death warrant first.
‘Newsflash. The siege at St Theresa’s School, Balham, is continuing. It is now known that nearly a hundred children are being held hostage, including the two children of Simon and Sally Pargeter, popular presenters of the programme Time For Tea. We’ll update you as soon as we get more news.’
MARTINE
Dear Diary,
This news, it is worrying but I am not to blame. I tell Simon and Sally this but they do not hear me. I explain, I arrive to pick up les enfants but I am prohibited from entering the road by the gendarmes.
So I go home.
Sally say it was imperative on me to ring and explain the problems. But she was in the studio, having make-up. I would like make-up like that. Maybe I borrow some before I go. It would look good before my photograph with the paper.
I say to Sally, do not worry. Josh is a difficult child. When the kidnappers at his school see this, they will handle him back. She cry when I say this. I have never seen Sally cry before. It makes me feel bad. But it is not my fault.
When I am a mother, I will not have an au pair. I do it all myself, and my mother, she will help me.
BETTY
‘Row, row, row, the boat, gently down the stream, Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.’
Do you like that tape, duck? Terry and I used to sing along to it at your age. That’s right, darling, eat up. Terry liked soldiers with his boiled egg, too. What am I talking about? You are Terry, aren’t you, duck? Your hair’s longer but we can soon sort that out.
It was so easy to rescue you. Mummy had locked the doors this time, hadn’t she? Naughty Mummy. But when I tapped on the window, you opened it for me. Clever boy. All you had to do was put your little finger on the button and down the window came. I pulled you out before the police turned up. Just as well. You’d be cold if you were still out there. Here, you’re nice and warm and I can look after you. Don’t cry, pet. Mum’s here.
EVIE
They were getting hot and tired now. It was almost five o’clock.
Time for Simon and Sally on television. Time for normal life again.
‘I’m starving,’ whispered Leonora. It wasn’t like her to be so timid but they were all scared of talking too loudly in case they annoyed their captors.
Evie felt in her pockets. There was some chewing gum and some chocolate, of which she gave half to Leonora and half to the child next to her, then glanced at the clock on the wall. They’d been here for three hours but it felt far longer. Many of the children were quietly complaining that they were hungry and thirsty, and some had asked to go to the loo, only to be denied permission.
‘You’ll have to give them something to eat and drink if you’re going to keep us here much longer, you know,’ she said to the youth.
He glared at her. ‘Shut up.’
Evie was silent for a bit. There was no point in inflaming him. Suddenly, she became aware of an arm round her shoulders. ‘Jack will be all right,’ said Leonora.
‘I hope so. How did you know what I was thinking?’
‘We often do, just by looking at your face. You don’t like us much, do you?’
Evie was indignant. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘No, you don’t. You just
want to be with Dad and Jack. You don’t like it when Mum dumps us on you.’
At any other time, Evie would have flounced out of the room. ‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly.’
‘We love Dad. And we love Mum, although she can be weird. Jack’s great too.’ Leonora stopped.
‘And me?’
She looked almost shy. ‘I like you at times but I never know where I am with you. Sometimes you’re nice and sometimes you’re really angry.’
‘I’ve had pressure with work.’
‘I know. Mum said that.’
‘She did?’
‘She said it couldn’t be easy for you and that we should be nicer.’
‘When?’
‘Last time we were with her. She’s changing. Even Dad thinks so. Chris is good for her, he says.’
Evie began to wonder if she’d been living in the same family. ‘Your dad has gone away for a bit,’ she said carefully. ‘Do you know where he might be?’
Leonora looked worried. ‘No. Don’t you?’
‘Maybe he’s gone for some more job interviews.’
‘Maybe.’ Leonora was silent for a while. ‘He needs the money, I know. Nattie kept going on about that skiing trip.
Mum said she couldn’t afford it and she wasn’t asking Chris for any more so Dad said he’d make sure we could still go.’
‘Did he?’
‘Is that OK?’
‘We’ll have to see.’ Was that why Robin had borrowed money? But a skiing trip wasn’t likely to cost thousands of pounds. ‘What about Natalie? What does she think of me?’
Leonora shrugged. ‘She wants Mum and Dad to get back together. But it isn’t going to happen.’
‘And you’re sure she’s in the room next door?’
‘I saw her being pushed in.’ She sobbed softly. ‘I hope she’s all right.’
Evie hugged her. ‘They’ve got to let us out soon. They can’t keep us here for ever.’
Leonora leaned into her shoulder and Evie felt a pang. She should have done this before – should have cuddled them when they got angry instead of shouting back. How could she have been so worried about her job when the only thing that mattered was your family – and the kids of the person you loved?