The atmosphere in the staff room at the Derwent Academy was gloomy. The school stood on the site of a nineteenth-century boys’ school in the heart of Keswick, near Fitz Park. It was built from Westmorland green slate shipped from Honister on horse-drawn carriages over one hundred and fifty years ago.
The sullen teenagers gracing the school’s prefabricated corridors and add-on buildings of formed concrete were not thinking of its illustrious past, however; there were other things on the minds of the eight hundred pupils and thirty staff. The suicide of Jenna Fraser was still recent and raw. But it wasn’t the only gossip to grip the academy: the suspension of Mr Blackman was also big news, and many children thought it funny to post paedophilia memes on Facebook. The school was struggling to keep up with the sick and twisted jokes doing the rounds on social media, and a doctored picture of Tony Blackman had emerged, dressed as the Grim Reaper and surrounded by terrified kids, his tiny pink penis dangling out of his robes.
Sarah was unsure how many people truly supported Tony. It was a tricky topic and she didn’t know whether to raise it or not. One thing was for sure: people were avoiding her. The staff dotted around the room pretended to look busy, heads sunk into exercise books and newspapers. She went to her pigeonhole to check it for notices, and then to the kettle to make a coffee. She sat alone. It was difficult to keep a relationship quiet in school, and most people suspected that she and Tony were lovers.
From the perspective of the staff, Sarah reckoned a lot of them didn’t believe the charges but didn’t want to get involved. She didn’t know what the children thought, because it wasn’t openly discussed, for good reason, but if she had to place a bet, she reckoned that the parents believed the accusations. It was the natural reaction of most people: throw enough shit and some would stick. It provided something to gossip about apart from the awful GCSE results. All their woes were suddenly the fault of Mr Blackman and his perverted mind, whether it be their child’s autism, increased drug abuse, or a cold snap in the weather.
Since his suspension, and Jenna Fraser’s death, the school had been thrown into a dark mood. It was now common knowledge that Jenna had committed suicide, though most people didn’t know exactly how. Sarah knew, and it was shocking. Drugs. They ruined everything. There was a pervasive feeling that the school had hit rock bottom, and the head was under growing pressure to rescue it, the year quickly turning into her annus horribilis. Sarah was on good terms with one of the office managers who had a loose jaw; that was how she’d found out the details of Jenna’s death. The woman had also told her that the head was thinking of quitting.
Now the police were asking about two other pupils who’d taken their own lives, one of them two years ago and the other a couple of years before that. It happened. Suicide was the biggest killer of ten- to twenty-five-year-olds now, and they had to go to school somewhere. The problem was the drugs angle. They just couldn’t keep it out of the schools. The staff regularly attended conferences on it and implemented policies recommended by Manchester and Kendal drug squads. But the dealers always found a way.
Sarah was a believer in the old saying that the devil made work for idle hands. Kids these days had nothing to do apart from sit like zombies in front of screens. That was what drove them to try other stuff. It made them so overstimulated that it bored them to death: the dopamine paradox, it was called. Of course, drug use was nothing new; it was one of the oldest and most lucrative trades on the planet and no one could change the demand. What they could do was tackle the supply, though it was only when the drug squads had tip-offs that they could set up surveillance and catch the sick bastards who were killing their kids. The school worked very closely with specialists who trained staff to look out for the warning signs of drug abuse. But it was so hard to prove that a child was using, and they weren’t allowed to search them. It was crazy.
The head came into the staff room. She had spoken to everybody who worked closely with Tony, and made it clear that she would support him for now. So that was the party line. They were saving their skins and waiting to see what a trial said.
What didn’t look good was that Tony had admitted to taking the student in question home with him, insisting that his intentions were honourable: she’d asked to borrow one of his limited-edition Lakeland poem collections, and he’d fallen for it. She must have planted the obscene images on his hard drive when he was fetching her a drink, and then found it amusing to inform the police, who had no choice but to act. But he couldn’t say what had motivated the girl to do it, or why she’d accused him of indecent assault. His case sounded fairly lame and he couldn’t prove his lack of guilt then he stood to get torn apart in court. The injustice of knowing his innocence but not being believed was a shocking reality. Sarah had contemplated confronting the complainant herself, but they’d all been told categorically not to by the head because of the fact that she was a minor, and a legal witness, and any interference could be construed as tampering. The girl was off limits. The injustice of it all stank. And they still had to teach her.
Sadie Rawlinson laughed with her friends, sniggered behind her art folder, swaggered in front of boys and fluttered her eyelashes at both sexes. The girl didn’t seem to have a moral bone in her body, inside her skimpy white shirt, tied above her skirt to show as much skin as possible and unbuttoned low to expose her cleavage. Flagrant distortions of uniform rules were considered the fault of the head, but it was an unwinnable war. It wasn’t rocket science that discipline was more likely to be successful when minor rules were followed, but imposing them was another story entirely. The pupils of the Derwent Academy had a reputation for flouting certain expectations when it came to behaviour outside the classroom, and to those in the know, it pretty much reflected what went on inside the classroom too. Only a few teachers commanded the respect of the students, whether it be due to their own indiscretions, such as smoking with the sixth formers by the lake, or through sheer skill; the others went to each lesson as if going into battle, prepared to barely make it out alive. Of the former, Sarah Peaks and Tony Blackman were certainly amongst the most popular – or had once been.
The head approached her and Sarah groaned inwardly. Her Google search sat open on her iPad: Innocent until proven guilty – law – UK. She glanced at her boss.
‘I’ve got to keep going. Look at this,’ she said, showing the head the screen.
‘I agree, but I’m not sure it’ll get you anywhere. I think it’s proving a real distraction for you, Sarah.’
‘I can’t just do nothing. It’s so unfair that Tony’s name can be published but Sadie’s isn’t. One newspaper has even printed a photograph of him, alongside his address.’ A few teachers looked over at them.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Sarah. Don’t even consider leaking her name. The fact remains that he invited her to his flat.’ Their voices had dropped to whispers, but it was quite clear to the others what they were talking about.
‘As if Sadie Rawlinson reads poetry! It makes my blood boil. She went there with the sole intention of framing him.’
‘Why would she do that? What’s her motive?’
The head had her on that one. Not even Tony had answered this question. Sadie’s story was that he had groomed her for weeks into finally accompanying him to his flat, where he’d tried to kiss her and grope her breasts.
‘For kicks, I guess. Just to be a first-class bitch and show that she can.’
‘Sarah, do you need some time off?’
‘No! That would look like I’m guilty too. I need to be here, fighting his corner. Some of the things being said about him are disgusting.’
‘I know, but that’s kids and gossip. The two don’t go together well. We’ve got to ride this out, otherwise things will quickly spiral out of control. Burden of proof is on the prosecution, don’t forget,’ the head continued. It was a comforting reminder. ‘They’ll have to prove her testimony correct, and I believe that will take some doing.’
There was no doubt that Sadie Rawlinson was a troublemaker, and fairly probably a pathological liar, but to toy with someone’s life, to get some sort of sick pleasure out of creating misery for others, was a step beyond mere delinquency.
‘Why don’t you take the rest of the term off? No one will think any less of you. We break up on Thursday anyway.’
‘And let her win?’
The bell rang and they all got up to leave the room. Sarah’s next lesson was with Sadie’s class, and she felt like throwing in the towel and going home, but she couldn’t. She had to face it head on.
She found teaching the girl almost impossible. Every time Sadie walked into her room, Sarah wanted to shake her and ask her why she was ruining someone’s life. She thought of Tony, funny, gentle, trusting, kind and generous, and then she looked into the over-made-up face of that lying, self-seeking little bitch, and she had to clench her fists. She swore that she’d seen the girl try to stare her out, and she wondered if she had any idea about her closeness to Tony. She was becoming paranoid.
But the feeling was quickly overtaken by something else when she walked into the classroom. The other students were huddled around Sadie, whose eyes were puffy and red. Sarah sighed and was about to call BAFTA to nominate the girl for her performance. But then she overheard what the pupils were gossiping about, and it wasn’t Tony; it was Faith Shaw. Faith always sat next to Sadie, but today she wasn’t there.
‘She went missing at the fair last night, miss,’ one child said.
‘What? Sadie, is that true?’
The girl began to nod, and Sarah couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
‘Are the police involved?’
‘Yes, miss, she was reported missing last night.’
‘Christ, that’s awful. Sit down, all of you, and take a book out. I’m going to check with the office.’
For once the students did as they were told. A sinking feeling gripped Sarah’s stomach and she felt sick. This was a disaster for the school. Another disaster.
The kids looked lost. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of what to say. Instead she left the room and went straight to the head’s office. When she got there, the woman’s face said it all. Faith Shaw had last been seen at the fair, and was now officially a missing person.