Behind him he could hear the girl crying.
Thirty
Frank Reed looked at the phone perched on the corner of his desk.
What are you waiting for?
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms in front of him, hearing the joints of his elbows crack.
Outside his office he could hear voices and, swivelling around in his chair, he saw a group of children walking unhurriedly across the playground towards one of the more modern blocks of classrooms. He couldn’t see the face of the teacher who led them, but he recognised the broad back and the worn tweed jacket: Don Hicks, Biology.
Reed smiled to himself.
Hicks was a couple of years older than Reed and the two men got on well.
Indeed, as Deputy Head, Reed had a good rapport with all of his colleagues.
Even the older ones didn’t seem to resent the fact that a man young enough to be their son, in some cases, held such a lofty position. Even if the salary didn’t match the responsibility, Reed mused.
He turned back to face his desk.
And the phone.
The door of his office was open slightly and from the outer office he could hear the sounds of a typewriter being pounded by the secretary both he and the headmaster shared. No new-fangled technology for her. No computers or word processors. She was loyal to her old electric typewriter.
He got to his feet and crossed to the door, closing it, then returned to his desk and looked at the phone once more.
He picked it up and dialled.
Had he got the right number?
Unsure, he pressed down on the cradle and checked the number he wanted in his diary. He dialled again and waited.
It was ringing.
Come on.
And ringing.
Perhaps they were out.
Or busy?
He tapped agitatedly on his desk top with his fingertips.
What are they doing?
Reed tried to push the thoughts from his mind.
Perhaps you’re disturbing them. Perhaps they’re in bed together. Perhaps he’s fucking her.
‘Pick it up’ Reed hissed.
They might not be able to hear it. Didn’t she tell you he made her feel so good?
Reed ran a hand through his hair.
So good.
At the other end the receiver was picked up.
‘Hello’ said a man’s voice.
Reed was so lost in his own thoughts that it took him a second to react.
‘Hello’ repeated the voice at the other end.
‘Could I speak to Ellen Reed, please?’
There was a moment’s silence followed by a little chuckle.
‘Frank, how nice to hear from you’ said Jonathan Ward.
Don’t you dare laugh at me, you bastard.
‘Can I speak to Ellen, please?’ the teacher said, trying to contain his irritation.
‘And how are you, Frank? Keeping well?’ Ward said, that trace of derision in his voice. ‘We haven’t heard from you for so long we were starting to get worried.’
‘Yeah, I bet you were. Just put Ellen on, will you?’
‘I don’t know if she wants to speak to you, Frank’ Ward told him dismissively.
‘Just get her’ Reed snapped, his free hand now balled into a fist.
‘What did you want to speak to her about?’
‘That’s between her and me. It’s none of your business.’
‘Ellen and I have no secrets from each other, Frank. She’ll tell me if I ask her, anyway.’
‘Yeah, she’d do anything for you, wouldn’t she?’ Reed spat.
Ward sniggered. ‘You’re probably right, Frank’ he said. Then all Reed heard was the sound of the receiver being laid on a hard surface.
‘Bastard’ the teacher murmured under his breath.
He waited.
At the other end he heard the receiver being lifted.
‘Hello’ said the woman’s voice.
‘Ellen, it’s Frank.’
Silence.
‘Ellen, I said-‘
‘I heard you. What do you want?’ she asked curtly.
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘We’ve got nothing to say.’
‘We’ve hardly said a dozen words to each other since …’ He allowed the sentence to trail off.
‘Since I left you?’
‘How’s Becky?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘And how are you?’
‘Oh, Christ, you’re not going to make small-talk are you?’
‘We need to talk, Ellen’ Reed said, angrily. ‘About Becky, about us.’
‘There is no us any more,’ she told him, flatly.
Reed swallowed hard. ‘How’s Becky?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘I want to see her, Ellen.’
‘We were thinking of going away for a few days - it isn’t convenient now.’
‘You’re talking about my daughter,’ he rasped. ‘I want to see her.’
‘Look, I’ll call you, right?’
‘Ellen. You can’t do this to me. She’s my daughter. If I have to get the police I will. You won’t keep her from me. I’ll do-‘
‘Do what you fucking want,’ she snarled and slammed down the phone.
He sat at his desk, the receiver still pressed to his ear, the buzz of a dead line the only thing he heard.
Very slowly, he slipped the phone back onto its cradle.
Fucking bitch.
Reed waited a moment then snatched up the phone and dialled another number.
And waited.
Thirty-one
Sean Harvey thought how aptly named the restaurant in Hays Mews was.
The Greenhouse was more like a large, immaculately decorated, conservatory than an eatery. He sat glancing
around at the faces of the other diners, relatively few for a lunchtime, his gaze turning towards the restaurant’s main door every so often.
He glanced at his watch.
She was late.
Despite the fact that the windows near him were open, it was very warm inside the restaurant, as the sun hovering high in the sky overhead blazed down. The plants potted carefully all around the tables, obviously responded to the temperature and blossomed.
Harvey felt a bead of perspiration forming on his forehead.
He wasn’t sure how much of it was apprehension.
He looked at his watch again.
What if she didn’t turn up at all?
He looked at his menu, sipped his Perrier and attempted to look nonchalant.
The gesture failed miserably.
Harvey glanced towards the main entrance again and this time he saw her.
Thank Christ.
He stood up as she made her way towards his table, smiling at him, brushing her blonde hair away from her face.
Hailey Owen was dressed in a short, rust-coloured skirt and matching jacket.
She walked gracefully in a pair of high heels, the tips clicking on the tiled floor of the restaurant. Harvey couldn’t resist an appreciative glance, allowing his gaze to linger on her slender legs.
‘Sorry I’m late’ she said, sitting down opposite him.
‘You’re not, I was early,’ he told her. ‘Do you want a drink?’
She nodded as he called the waiter to him and ordered another Perrier for himself and a Baccardi and Coke for her.
‘I would have been here earlier,’ Hailey told him. ‘But I couldn’t get away.
Debbie wanted me to go for lunch with her -I had to make up an excuse about shopping. I said I was going to a wedding and had to get a dress. Then she wanted to come with me to help me pick it. I thought I was never going to get away.’
The waiter returned with the drinks.
He watched as Hailey took a sip of hers.
‘No one knew where you were going?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘What about you?’
‘I told my secretary I was meeting a client, I said I might be late back,’ he announced.
‘You don’t think anyone knows, do you, Sean?’
He shook his head.