It was time for school to begin.
There was an eerie feeling in the close-knit community. Anxious parents held on tight to their children as they took them to school. On a normal day, kids would be running in front, laughing, screaming, and parents would be gossiping. Today, the atmosphere was sombre. Children walked silently, gripping their mother’s hand. Faces were grim, and everybody tried to avoid eye contact with the heavily wrapped up police officers who made their way along Stannington Road.
Police cars drove slowly, and a helicopter circled high above. None of this felt real.
Head teacher Sheila Croft watched the growing crowed of worried parents and made her way to them. She offered a sympathetic smile.
‘Good morning.’
‘Miss Croft, these gates will be locked, won’t they, once all the children are inside?’ a worried parent asked.
Sheila tilted her head. ‘The gates are locked every morning at nine o’clock and not opened until school ends at three-thirty. This happens every single day. Your children are perfectly safe here.’
‘Have you heard anything about Keeley yet?’ asked another parent.
‘No, I haven’t. I have a detective coming round later today. I expect I’ll be updated then.’
‘I heard the police were here yesterday and they spoke to Mr Page who’s since done a runner,’ one parent shouted above the sound of a helicopter.
‘Is this true?’ Someone called out from the back of the small crowd of parents, which seemed to be growing with every question directed at Sheila Croft.
She held up her hands to quieten the crowd. ‘Mr Page was questioned because he was the last teacher to teach Keeley before she went missing. As for him doing a runner, that is simply not true,’ she said, hoping her poker face would hold.
‘My Phoebe was very upset this morning,’ one woman said as she stroked the golden blonde hair of a grim-faced child in front of her. ‘Will you keep an eye on her?’
‘I’m going to be holding a special assembly this morning. You’ve nothing to worry about. Come along Phoebe, let’s get you into school and let Mummy go off to work.’
Sheila held her hand out to Phoebe, who looked to her mother for permission to take it. She eventually allowed herself to be led away.
***
Mary Croft Primary School was one of three primary schools in the Stannington area, but it was the largest and held over seven hundred pupils. Many parents had elected to keep their children away from school today as gossip and rumour spread around social media like wildfire. There was a kidnapper on the loose. A van had been seen slowly circulating the area seeking vulnerable children walking on their own. There was a known paedophile living near the school, the police knew about it, and were keeping it to themselves. At least one teacher had a criminal record. Every stranger was a suspect. Every unknown car had their registration number written down, and suddenly, everyone was frightened.
All the children assembled into the hall. They sat quietly on the floor in rows, their legs crossed. Teachers stood at the side of the room. They tried to act normally for the sake of reassuring the pupils, but they were equally fearful. Would the finger of suspicion be pointed at them? The profession of teacher was no longer a rewarding one. They were blamed for a great many things: low test results, showing too much interest in a student, not showing enough interest. Placing a hand on the back of one child if they were upset was suddenly no longer a symbol of comfort, but a sign of a teacher grooming the child. They couldn’t maintain eye contact with a child for too long in case it was seen as intimidation or as if they were being somehow suggestive.
Sheila Croft walked down the centre of the room. Her sensible shoes clacked loudly on the parquet flooring as she walked with her shoulders back, head high, and ample bosom on display. She was wearing a beige ankle-length skirt and a white shirt buttoned up to her fat neck. She dressed conservatively for a reason: protection against any unwanted or unwarranted attention from parents and teachers alike.
‘Good morning everyone. As I’m sure you all know by now, one of our fellow pupils, Keeley Armitage, who is in Miss Beech’s class, has gone missing. Now, on your way here this morning, you will have seen a lot of policemen and policewomen who are doing everything they can to try and find her. I know it looks scary, but it’s not. Police officers are there to look after us and keep us safe. There is nothing for any of you to worry about. However, if any of Keeley’s friends know where she might be, or if they’ve seen anything strange, or if Keeley has mentioned anything strange lately, then you can tell me, or your teacher. Nobody is going to get into trouble. All we want to do is find Keeley.’
Sheila looked out at the sea of blue sweaters with the yellow logo on the left breast. All the faces were blank as the children, aged from seven to eleven, had their first glimpse of reality; the world wasn’t all about learning the alphabet, times tables, and playing games. Outside of the school gates, beyond their back gardens, there was fear, dread, and horror.