Callum laughed. “It’s a public footpath. I can be here.”
“Not beyond that gate.” Warren nodded to the metal barrier between Jude and them.
“I’m not beyond the gate.” Callum tilted his head. “And who the fuck are you? Path police?”
“School safeguarding lead for this post,” Warren replied without missing a beat. “My job’s to make sure staff aren’t harassed on school grounds. If you want to meet with Mr Ellison, you can arrange it through the front office like everyone else.”
Callum cocked his head, roving his gaze the length of Warren, and Warren folded his arms, a pose saying,try me.
For a beat, nobody moved.
Then Callum smirked, as if he’d decided this wasn’t his moment. “See you soon, lamb.” He lingered his gaze on Jude long enough to press the point before stepping back and sauntering away.
Warren watched him go, then turned to Jude through the bars. “You alright?”
Jude forced a nod, though his grip on the gate stayed tight enough to ache. “Yeah.” He shook himself loose, made himself step back. “Irate parent or whatever.” He even tried for a laugh, the sound brittle. “Better get to the Humanities meeting.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder and somehow got his jelly legs moving, walking the path towards the main building.
There was no Humanities meeting.
Instead, he shut himself in his classroom. Marking. Lesson planning. Rewriting schemes of work that didn’t need rewriting, anything to keep from replaying the way Callum had stood there, one locked gate between them. The way it felt as though that gate had been nothing at all. And two hours passed before he gave up pretending to work. He fished out his phone, stared at it for a long time, chewing over the fact that this was even on his mind. Then he swallowed his pride and hit call.
Freddie answered on the fourth ring, just as Jude was about to hang up. “Hey.” He sounded out of breath. As if he was at thegym. Jude remembered when they’d had those brief calls. When it had been flirty. And Jude had tried to be someone else.
“Hi, Freddie. It’s Jude.”
“Yeah, I know.” A pause. As if the treadmill had stopped. “You okay?”
Jude leaned back in his chair, tipped his head to stare at the ceiling. “Can I ask you a completely hypothetical question? About the law. Policing.”
“Go on.”
“If a convicted felon is released early from their sentence, what limitations are there on that person?”
“All depends on the conviction, the conditions of their licence, and whether they’re on any kind of probation supervision.”
“And if they’re not on probation?”
“Then they’ve served their time. Legally speaking, they’re a free man.”
“What if… hypothetically… they turn up at someone’s home? Start hanging around?”
“Only a crime if they’re trespassing, making threats, or harassing. And even then, you’d need evidence.”
“So… showing up at a workplace?”
Freddie hesitated. “Public place, no restraining order in place? Not much we can do except ask them to leave. If they refuse, you can make a report. But unless there’s proof of a specific offence—threats, violence, breaking in—our hands are tied.”
Jude fluttered his eyes closed. “Right. Thanks. Hypothetically, of course.”
“Jude…” Freddie’s tone carried a warning. “If this isn’t hypothetical…”
“It’s a student. Safeguarding means I can’t say anything. You understand.”
A pause. Then, “You know where I am.”
“Yeah.” Jude pulled the phone away from his ear. “Thanks, Freddie. Appreciate it.”
He ended the call before Freddie could push. And he sat there a moment longer, staring at the desk. He’d already known it, but hearing it confirmed by police, that just made it all the worse.
