Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📗

‘That’s blackmail,’ Robbins says. ‘You’ll ruin my career. I’ll never get another teaching position.’

I wink and give him the thumbs-up sign. ‘Full marks, sir.’

Twenty-Two

DAY 8

On the way to work, Rob calls. ‘Are you planning on making an appearance any time today?’

‘If you bothered to read your texts, you’d know I was going to be in late.’ I called Arthur this morning and told him I had to meet with the kids’ headteacher. Jim was going to come, but we woke up late, so he wouldn’t have been ready in time. Besides, I’ve done so much overtime in the past year, if I were to take it all off in lieu, Arthur wouldn’t see me before Christmas.

I sit on a moulded plastic chair outside Mrs Miller’s room, watching children file in to start their school day. Some kids stare, making me feel like a naughty child. After a quarter of an hour, Mrs Miller appears, flustered, apologising profusely for her tardiness.

She leads me into her room, a busy shrine to her many pupils. Their work plasters the walls from the skirting to the ceiling. Drawings and paintings, certificates of achievement and a collection of posters depicting the school’s ethos and values: respect, learn, aspire and care for one another.

‘This constitutes bullying in my books, Mrs Miller, and something needs to be done about it,’ I say after explaining my little chat with Isabella.

‘Rest assured, now I have your side of the story, I will tackle this with utmost urgency. Bullying is not something I will tolerate in my school. Can I just mention something else while I have you here?’

Her tone suggests I am not going to like what she has to say. ‘When I spoke to Isabella about this incident on Friday…’

I interrupt her. ‘She never mentioned that you’d spoken to her.’

She nods. ‘We had a good conversation. I’m pleased she felt she could open up to me.’

‘What did she say?’ I ask, curious. I can’t imagine Isabella opening up to anyone else. A pang of resentment perturbs me.

‘I’ve debated whether to tell you this. Being a working parent myself, I know how difficult things can be at times, but she got very upset about not seeing you very much.’

Her words repeat themselves in my head for the rest of the day.

Sasha calls when I get to work. As soon as I hear her high-pitched voice, I know she’s had news of Marc.

‘A lady called me this morning. She owns a B&B on the outskirts of Cambridge. Near the hospital. I gave one of my missing leaflets to a friend of hers when I was there yesterday. She was visiting that friend and recognised Marc on the leaflet.’

‘That’s encouraging.’

‘She said he booked into her B&B last Monday night, for two nights, but get this. He used a different name. Hastings.’ Her voice breaks. ‘He really doesn’t want to be found.’

‘You know anyone with that surname?’

‘Nope.’

‘How sure is she that it was him?’

‘She has CCTV.’

‘Will she let you look?’

‘She said she would.’

‘That’s surprising.’

‘She said her friend told her how desperate I was. I’ve arranged to go up there tonight. I need to know if it was him. If he’s still alive.’ Her voice dips. ‘I need to know, Eva.’

‘Do you want to leave Jim’s physio for today?’

‘Definitely not. He’s seeing Art too, don’t forget.’

I arrive at Napier Close mid-afternoon. Luke and Harry follow me in. They must have just finished another exam. ‘Hi, you two,’ I call out as I click my car shut. Harry doesn’t acknowledge me. Stomping towards his front door, he looks already done with the day, his cheeks flushed, and his mouth twisted like a taut red knot. Luke waves.

I nod over to Harry. ‘Not a good day, I take it?’

‘We’ve just come from another maths paper. He thinks he’s stuffed it up,’ Luke says.

‘Poor guy’s not having a good time.’

‘Shame he missed the revision class yesterday. A question came up on today’s paper that the teacher went through in some detail. Typical, eh?’

‘How did you find the exam?’

‘Good, thanks. I’ll go over and help him later. We’ve got another maths paper tomorrow. I’ll run through the other stuff the teacher went over yesterday.’

Ralph is laying outside Sasha’s studio, panting, beside his empty water bowl. Luke takes a bottle out of his rucksack and removes the lid. ‘Hey, buddy, you thirsty?’ He bends down and fills the bowl with water, encouraging Ralph to take a sip. Luke looks up at me. Despite what I felt about him on Saturday night, his dark, puppy dog eyes display nothing sinister today. ‘This hot weather isn’t good for them.’ He strokes Ralph’s coat. ‘You should be inside, little fellow, where it’s cooler. Finish that, and I’ll take you in.’

Ralph laps up his drink as if he’ll never get another one. ‘Take it easy, buddy.’ Luke caresses the dog’s tail. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll pour you another one when this is finished.’

I can’t stop staring at him. There’s something oddly mesmerising about the way he’s stroking Ralph. Sasha opens the door, interrupting my thoughts. The murky cloud that has been hanging over her usually sunny face for the past week is even darker today. ‘I thought I heard voices. Ah, Luke, you’re back. Did Harry come home with you?’

Luke scoops up Ralph and holds him in his arms like a baby. ‘He’s gone straight in. I’ll take Ralph in too.’

‘You’re such a sweetheart. Tell Harry I’ll be about twenty minutes.’

‘Sure thing, Mrs O. See you later.’

Mrs O? Does he always call her that? I’ve not noticed before.

‘You coming in, Eva?’ Sasha asks.

I hear her, but her words don’t register. I’m too busy watching Luke carrying Ralph away, wondering why my guts are twisting. I lean a hand against the studio wall, feeling nauseous. The taste of cheap coffee and salty, smoky pig shoots up to the back of my throat. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that bacon butty Rob bought me for lunch. He’s