He shoved through the squealing gate, and loped across the playground to Kirkenwell Academy’s primary school, also known as a sprawl of interconnected Portakabins, squatting in what used to be a five-a-side football pitch – going by the goalposts that still stood at either end – though the grass had been smothered with landscape fabric and bark chips.
At some point, they’d had a bash at cheering things up, by painting each ‘temporary’ building a different colour, like the houses in Balamory, but they’d long since faded and weathered to a grubby palette of off-greys.
One of the cabins, at the front of the depressing pack, was covered in posters that the kids had clearly drawn themselves – because they were rubbish – and above the door a sign declared: ‘ALL VISITORS MUST REPORT TO RECEPTION!’
Logan stopped just outside. Took a deep breath. And stepped into the mildew-sock-and-armpit funk of a cobbled-together primary school.
Rows and rows of empty coat hooks lined the walls, with hard wooden-slat benches below. Five doors off, each painted a different colour: ‘RED ZONE’, ‘BLUE ZONE’, ‘GREEN ZONE’, ‘YELLOW ZONE’, and ‘TOILETS’. A handful of desks made a pushed-together island in the middle of theroom, where a beanbag-faced woman in a pink cardigan and perm sat facing the door, knitting. Looking as if she’d be happier at the foot of a guillotine, watching a bunch of French aristocrats get twelve inches shorter.
Instead, she had to make do with supervising a cardboard box full of name badges – each of which had a blob of blue, yellow, red, or green on it. Which presumably corresponded to each of the ‘zones’.
Logan risked a smile. ‘Hi.’
She didn’t look up, needlesclicker-clacking away. ‘Name badge.’
OK...
He had a rummage through the box, but the closest he could find was one with ‘LOGANMACRAY’ and a big green blotch on it. With a heavy sigh, he pinned the thing to his lanyard and marched through the door to the Green Zone.
Which turned out to be yet another Portakabin – shock horror – with scruffy green carpet tiles and some fairly awful kids’ paintings on the walls. About three dozen little desks were lined up in neat rows, each with its own small plastic chair. A door at the back of the class promised access to a ‘COOLDOWN AREA’.
Could do with one of those back at Divisional Headquarters. And a naughty step wouldn’t go amiss...
To add a touch of sophistication and luxury, they’d laid out two bowls of crisps, a stack of plastic cups, and a beaker of diluting orange. All three of which looked cheap and nasty.
A handful of teachers milled around – easy to spot by their lanyards, general air of depression, and predilection for corduroy. Except for one: a young woman with huge bouffant black hair and denim dungarees, who seemed to be mainlining Energizer batteries.
The parents, on the other hand, looked bored and uncomfortable, each with a fidgety little child in tow.
A baldy bloke in shorts and a golfing jumper grinned. ‘Aye, aye. A’bidy behave, it’s the polis.’
And with that, everyone stopped talking to stare at Logan.
Thanks, mate.
Logan tucked his hat under his arm, gave them all a friendly nod, then wandered over to where Tara and the LizMonster were examining a wall of what might’ve been Pokemon. Or self-portraits. Difficult to tell.
Elizabeth was in her school uniform – grey trousers, white polo shirt, stripy tie – but Tara had gone casual in jeans, boots, and an old Atomic Killer Cockroach T-shirt. And she was still the most stylish thing in the room.
Logan gave the pair of them a wee salute. ‘Acting Detective Chief Inspector McRae, reporting for duty – bang on time, as usual.’
Tara checked the wall clock. ‘Skin of the teeth, more like.’ But she gave Logan a kiss anyway. No tongues, because it was schooltime.
‘Hey, monster.’ He ruffled WhizzyLizzy’s hair.
‘Da-aaa-aaad!’ Scooting out of reach and fiddling her locks back into place.
He held up his new badge. ‘Well, I say “McRae”, apparently I’ve changed my name.’
Tara pursed her lips, one eyebrow raised. ‘Fulluniform? Really?’
‘The Chief Super insisted. Says there’s so many of us off on the sick right now, the public need reassurance.’ He posed. ‘Are you reassured?’
‘Just don’t go arresting anyone, OK?’
Elizabeth grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the front of the room. Still a bit lispy, on account of not having all herfront teeth back yet. ‘Come on, Dad, we’re going to be late for our first appointment!’
Urgh...
