‘Don’t the new school want them?’ asked Thelma.
‘Nope,’ said Caro bitterly. ‘Apparently they’re not compatible with their systems.’ She shook her head and her eyes ranged unhappily round the warm, boxed-up room. ‘See what that man did,’ she said softly.
At that moment the noise of singing, sweet and clear, rose from the school hall. ‘Bobby Shafto’, sung together and then in parts, the sound sweet and yet at the same time mournful as if the dying school itself had found a voice.
Thelma’s eyes flicked back to the display showing the life of the man whose world had been so brutally overturned by Neville Hilton and who shortly afterwards had overturned his own world on the A171. They had been looking for one person who might have had reason to confront Neville Hilton – and they seemed to have found a whole school full.
Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday 22nd July
Text sent from Hedley Lodestone Primary Academy to parents:
THREE handbag fans were left in the hall after today’s end-of-year assembly. Please call at the school office to collect.
‘So, you’re a friend of Victoria?’ said Dreamy Pete Powell. ‘And you’re some sort of detective?’
‘I’m not any sort of detective,’ said Pat rather hotly, thinking yet again she really needed to be careful what she told her old friend.Detectivating!It wasn’t even a proper word! Perched between a box crammed full of carrier bags and a table littered with various forms and lists, she regarded the former Ofsted inspector turned food bank operative. Dreamy? She wasn’t so sure about that. He was a slight, wiry man who could have been anything between fifty and seventy, one of those people who gave the impression of being someone younger, dressed up as someone older; the bright eyes made mockery of the lines on his brow and jaw; the wiry, white curls could have been a wig.
‘I’m a former colleague of Neville Hilton’s first wife,’ said Pat.‘And she’s wanting to find out a bit more about what happened to him before his death. Which,’ she added hastily, ‘was a natural death, so the police say.’
‘But you think it might be something to do with what happened at Pity Me school?’ Those bright eyes fixed her with a shrewd look.
‘Somebody was overheard shouting the name of the school at Neville not long before he died.’
Peter Powell nodded slowly. He appeared to be making up his mind about something. ‘Of course, there’s only so much I can say – and all of it off the record. But, well, if what you say is right – I can’t say I’m at all surprised.’
‘I heard it was rather a brutal inspection,’ said Pat.
Peter nodded slowly. ‘It’s the main reason I stopped working as an Ofsted inspector,’ he said.
Crossing the sun-baked playground, a voice – clear and angry – stopped Liz and Thelma in their tracks.
‘Excuse me,’ it said.
Liz and Thelma turned to find themselves facing the blonde teacher, Chloe, who had turned her back on them earlier.
‘Excuse me,’ said Chloe again. ‘Can I just say, what you people are doing isdisgusting.’ She was only short, barely five feet, but what she lacked in size, she more than compensated for in attitude. Visible on her upper arm was a black, spiky-looking tattoo of some fierce Celtic design.
‘Pardon me?’ said Liz, feeling a panicked sneeze building.
‘How you people can sleep at night is beyond me.’
‘I’m sorry?’ said Thelma.
‘Rona Middleton.’ Chloe fired the words out with scornful power. ‘Ro. My classroom assistant. I think it’sterribleyou’re not giving her a job in your school. Okay, she’s got a record, but it’s only shoplifting and that wasyearsago. I am telling you she is an excellent classroom assistant; the kids all love her to bits.’
Standing there, face bright with righteous anger, silver-blonde hair blazing in the sun Chloe would, Thelma thought, make an excellent Viking goddess – a true Valkyrie.
Liz opened her mouth to speak but Chloe had not finished, not by a long chalk. ‘All thatcrapabout Wearside Academy welcoming the Pity Me family into your trust – absolutebullshit, with you picking and choosing staff like you are doing. And don’t give me any of that guff about not having enough money because you know what, that’s absolute bullshit as well. I’veseenthe money being splashed around by you people left, right and centre.’
‘I think,’ Thelma began.
‘I know what it is,’ drove on Chloe. ‘You don’t want someone with a criminal record. But that was years ago, and at the end of the day it was a nicked Mars bar. It shouldnotdebar you from working in a school. I’ve checked.’
‘I think there’s some crossed wires going on here,’ said Thelma gently.
‘How?’ said Chloe angrily.
