The Surrogate

‘Tony. Right. He okay?’

‘Fine.’ She looked into the coffee mug. ‘Everything. Fine and Jim Dandy.’ She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, breathed in, her stomach suddenly feeling enormous.

‘Whoever he is,’ said Phil. ‘Well, you look like you know what you’re doing. I’ll leave you to it, right?’

‘Okay.’

‘Right.’

‘You said that already.’

He laughed. ‘Right.’ Laughed again. ‘Well . . . I’m sure I’ll see you later.’

‘Later.’

He moved away, walking towards his desk. She kept her eyes on him the whole time, then shook her head. No, she thought, that’s the last thing I need right now.

She put her head down, looked again at the paperwork in front of her but couldn’t concentrate. There had been too many things left unsaid between her and Phil. Things they should talk about. If she decided she wanted to. But they would have to wait.

She went back to the reports. Concentrating this time.

Because lives depended on it.

13

Emma Nicholls sat down behind her desk and gave DC A

She was dressed as if for a normal day at work as a head teacher: black two-piece trouser suit, light-coloured blouse, hair cut into a long bob. But the day was no longer normal. Two of her teachers had been murdered and now the school had been invaded by police.

DC A

Emma Nicholls, she thought, would be all right eventually. She hadn’t seen what A

‘Please understand,’ Emma Nicholls said, tipping her head back and appearing to audition words in her head before trusting them to leave her mouth, ‘that my primary concern is for this school.’

‘Of course.’

‘By that I mean everyone. The welfare of the children and the staff I consider to be equally paramount.’

‘Right.’

Words chosen, she continued. ‘Having said that, I seldom interfere in the affairs of my staff unless they are personal friends or they ask for help.’

A

Emma Nicholls’ office managed to be both professional and welcoming, with achievements and diplomas on the walls alongside schedules, year pla

The school was old but had been modernised. Clean, bright and bursting with positive energy, and with children’s work and achievements decorating the walls, it was clearly a place where the children were valued and well taught. But then, thought A

The children, or at least most of them that A

‘So,’ she continued, her notebook open, ‘were Claire Fielding and Julie Simpson personal friends?’

Emma Nicholls seemed about to answer but instead sighed, her eyes drifting off, her forced pleasantness slipping away to be replaced by a dark, depressive air. Like a cancer victim who had momentarily forgotten their predicament.

‘This is just terrible,’ she said.

With nothing to add, A

‘Oh my God . . .’

The dark, depressive air was increasing. A

Emma Nicholls pulled herself upright. ‘I know, I know. You’ve . . .’ Her mind drifted again, her features taking on the appearance of approaching tears. She managed to pull herself together. ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s all right.’

The head teacher allowed a small smile to cross her face. ‘At times like this I wish I still smoked.’

A

Emma Nicholls nodded.

‘Julie was Year Six, Claire Year Four, right?’

Emma Nicholls nodded again, her hands fidgeting as if an imaginary cigarette was there.

‘And Claire was pregnant.’

Another nod.

‘How long did she have to go until maternity leave?’

‘A couple . . . a couple of weeks.’

‘Was it pla

Emma Nicholls frowned. ‘Is that important? She’s dead.’

‘I know. But we have to ask these questions. Helps us find out who did it.’

‘Right.’The frown slowly disappeared to be replaced by a sigh. ‘She seemed happy about it, from what I could gather.’

‘We believe she had friends round last night.’

‘Yes. A baby shower.’ Her lip trembled again.

‘Ms Nicholls, we’re trying to track down anyone one else who may have been there. Could you give me any names?’

Emma Nicholls didn’t have to give the matter any thought. ‘Chrissie Burrows. Geraint Cooper. They were talking about it this morning.’

‘That’s it? Just those two?’

‘Just . . .’ Tears threatened her eyes again.

A

‘Ms Nicholls, I’ll need to talk to them too.’

Emma Nicholls nodded. A

The frown returned to Emma Nicholls’ face, along with a guarded look in her eyes. ‘Her boyfriend.’

‘Ryan Brotherton,’ said A

‘Well, Claire didn’t have a very . . . easy relationship with him from what I could gather. As I said, it was none of my business. She was an excellent teacher, very professional, and the children adored her. Whatever else went on in her life, as long as it didn’t impinge on work I couldn’t get involved.’

A

Emma Nicholls continued. ‘Claire had recently split up with her partner.’

A

‘You look surprised.’

‘I am. I was given to understand that the relationship was still ongoing.’

Emma Nicholls shook her head. ‘Again, I must stress that I seldom interfere, but my staff know my door is always open for them. A few months ago Claire was looking very despondent. I asked her if she wanted to talk. She didn’t. Julie . . .’ Again the dark cloud descended as she spoke the name. ‘Julie . . . told me that Claire and her partner had split up. And that Claire was taking it very badly.’