Between the Prison and the Sewage Works by Maryline Suchley (e book reader android .TXT) 📕

Mara caught the train to Oak Hill School, the venue for this event. The train was definitely a more pleasant experience than the bus, as it was travelling away from central London, and not packed with commuters.

Oak Hill School was old in the sense it was dilapidated and looked like it was being held together with barbed wire and paint. The reception area was clearly marked with signage instructing visitors to press the button and talk.

‘Bloody hell, all that’s missing is a lookout tower and armed guard’. Mara whispered to herself, as she pressed the buzzer and spoke. The huge door clicked open to reveal a grim faced woman sat waiting for Mara to say something.

‘Good morning, I’m here for the science development day,’ Mara smiled

‘I know you said when you buzzed!’ she replied pointing towards a door at the end of the corridor.

Mara followed the direction of the finger which led to the staffroom. Amongst all the chatter there was a distinct group of people who looked unsure where to place themselves and what to do. They must be the mugs roped into the professional development, Mara decided as she walked towards them and sat down. It wasn’t long before a middle aged woman with dangly earrings came over to them.

‘Hello, are you all involved with the science day?’ she grinned.

All nodded in unison.

‘Jolly good, follow me, were off to the S4, that’s science room four.’ The lemmings followed her to the science room, which was predictably old and tattered; it looked like it had its last refit in the 1950’s. The benches and tables had decades of names etched in, along with comments about Mr Adam’s sexual orientation and various slags and slappers that had attended the school. Daniel strolled into the room shortly after and made a beeline for Mara, pulled over a stool, sat down and simultaneously winked, clicked his tongue and smiled.

I really do hate him. Mara thought.

‘Good afternoon!’ Mara said.

‘Good morning Miss Proficient!’ he replied teasingly.

‘I haven’t seen Gordon yet,’ said Mara, ignoring his wisecrack.

‘He was complaining of Diarrhoea yesterday so he might not be able to drag himself here,’ Daniel replied.

‘Good morning everyone, I’m Pat the science adviser for the Borough of Greenwich. I would like to....’

The classroom door burst open. A short round grey haired woman with glasses fell into the room. Clearly flustered she apologised for being late and walked over to a wall socket, proceeding to plug in her mobile phone and make a phone call.

‘Hello. HELLO. GARY. GARY can you hear me? Could you come and pick me up at three. I also need you to get the papers from the solicitor.’

Her high pitched voice was now drowning the science advisor, who was trying to run through the agenda for the day. Mara found it difficult not to laugh at this woman’s clear inability to recognise she was the centre of attention. Meanwhile sensitive as ever Daniel arrogantly grinned with folded arms; making no effort to hide his enjoyment of the scene. Eventually the woman settled down into a seat still oblivious to the disruption she had caused with her antics.

‘I would like everyone to introduce themselves and say which school they are from,’ droned the science advisor.

One by one the teachers blandly said their name and school. The door opened again and the receptionist walked in unapologetically interrupting a nervous sounding woman who was repeating the name of her school because Daniel had shouted out pardon. Without any kind of explanation, she pointed to the stressed woman that had come in late.

‘Your school just rang, they couldn’t find your register and they have an audit today,’ she said conceitedly.

‘I don’t know where it is either, tell them it’s somewhere on my desk.’

‘They said that they’ve searched your office and your classroom.’

‘Uh, it must be there!’ she rasped, now red faced and looking very self-conscious at the attention she was drawing.

‘So ill tell them it might be under some papers,’ she said contemptuously, walking out with no intention of waiting for a reply.

At this point the science advisor gave the woman a yellow stress ball.

‘I think you might have earned this dear.’

Mara looked at Daniel. He was stretched out and leaning back on his chair beaming; clearly delighted at watching someone else in trauma.

As anticipated, the day was long and drawn out, a small minority of teachers argued over irrelevant issues. One man became quite angry and had to be subdued by a fellow colleague.

Daniel was like a fly on a carcass, he followed Mara around all day. This of course irritated Mara but because she had arranged a lift home with him she had to be both pleasant and polite.

Daniel used the car journey home to talk about himself. Mara’s response to a wholly one sided conversation was to nod, agree and throw in the occasional.

‘Really.’

‘Oh.’

‘How nice.’

‘Mara, why did you become a teacher? I was a computer programmer before this. I realised one day that I had enough of sitting at a desk looking at a screen. I needed to interact with people. I studied psychology at university and I know I don’t teach psychology or anything, but at least I feel like I’m doing something in the realm of science.’

‘Holidays,’ Mara responded.

‘My mate, James teaches at an all girls school in East Dulwich, he says I should go and work there cause some of the sixth form girls are really hot.’

‘Yeah, go for it. You might find yourself a lovely wife,’ she replied lifting her eyebrows.

‘So what do you do at weekends?’ he asked oblivious to her obtuse response.

‘You know if you’ve got nothing else to do at the weekend you could come out with me and my mate James.’

What a revolting prospect. Mara thought.

‘I’m always really busy catching up with friends and that,’ she lied.

Mara didn’t know many people in London, only those she trained with at teacher’s college. Even then she had not kept in contact with them.

She had to now decide whether or not to ask Daniel to drop her off just down the road from her flat or stop directly outside. Part of her didn’t want him knowing where she lived in case he turned up with his mate James. On the other hand she couldn’t be bothered to walk, and it had just started to pelt down with rain.

‘Just here will do, thanks Daniel.’

‘So this is where you live? Umm.’

Daniel pulled into the bus stop, watched her get out, saluted and drove off.

‘God he’s a dick.’

Once inside her flat she cracked open the wine and switched on the television. The wine was like liquid relaxation. Deep down she knew this was probably not a good path to follow, but the alcohol really did ease her despondency.

Watching the news almost unconsciously, the word Thamesmead, got her attention.

‘He was discovered at approximately 6:30 am at Thamesmead Polytechnic School in East London. The unnamed man is thought to have broken in to the school late last night and had some kind of accident while committing a burglary. He was found on the floor with a broken neck. Police believe he tripped and fell down the stairs. Unable to breathe properly he eventually suffocated. Police have not yet confirmed if there is a connection between this latest incident and the discovery of a body found recently at a nearby sewage works,’ said the reporter who was standing in front of the Thamesmead Polytechnic sign on a deserted school site.

‘Police sent students and staff home this morning while they carried out their investigations. Nicholas Hemmingway. BBC one, Thamesmead. South East London.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mara blurted. ‘They closed the school on the one day I was out on professional development!’

The thought then occurred to Mara that there could be another day off in this for her. She rang the school to find out what was happening.

There was no answer just a taped message saying that the school would reopen as usual tomorrow. Her heart sank.

After dinner and a couple more glasses of wine, Mara’s mind started to think about who the victim could have been.

‘My God, Gordon wasn’t there today. Maybe he stayed late to do some work? No that would be impossible. He’s usually out the school the second the bell rings; if he could get away with it he would chuck the keys to the kids and ask them to lock up on their way out!’ she said whilst looking in the cupboard for another bottle of wine.

‘But how could the guy have got past the security alarm, and apart from big bulky things like computers there is nothing of real value in the school. I’ll find out more tomorrow.’

Chapter Four

4

‘A Vile disease has beset him; he will never get up from the place where he lies. Praise the lord!’

Mara reached for the off button on the radio. Her mind felt foggy.

‘I drank far too much wine last night,’ she grumbled.

‘A couple more minutes and I’ll get up.’

Mara awoke startled; looking at the clock she realised she had missed the early morning bus and would be riding to school with the kids. The cut off time to ring in sick had passed and in any case she wanted to find out what happened yesterday. Rushing around the flat she tied her hair, cleaned her teeth, sprayed deodorant and caked on the make up to disguise her bloated eyes.

‘That will effing have to do!’

She ran to the bus stop with the slim optimism that she may just escape the bulk of the kids. As the bus pulled into the inlet, that slender hope she was holding on to slipped away. It was full of students. The noise on the bus quickly subsided as one by one the kids had realised a teacher had got on. She could feel all eyes on her as she sat down in the only available seat at the front next to the ginger kid, Darryl, who even the staff referred to as victim boy. As the bus roared down the road, the laughing became louder and louder. Mara felt increasingly uneasy. Then it started. Balls of paper were being hurled down the aisle. Not so close as to hit her, but close enough to try and provoke a reaction.

What the bloody hell should I do? Mara thought.

She turned around and glared to show that she was not in the least bit intimidated. This had no effect. The paper missiles resumed once she had turned back, but this time they were hitting victim boy who would shout and swear at random kids. Mara’s nose was beginning to form beads of sweat; if she put up with the paper attack it would undermine her authority in the classroom. As she turned again she saw Emmanuelle Tundie with his arm drawn back ready to throw a paper ball.

‘GOT YOU! Get down here now,’ she shouted.

‘But I wasn’t going to throw it. And I didn’t throw any of the others,’ Emmanuelle whined.

‘You’re the one that’s been caught and you’re the one that I’m taking to Mr Davison.’

Mara got out of her seat and walked Emmanuelle to the rear of the bus. She moved two of the students from the back seat and told them to sit somewhere else. Something she realised she should have done at the start.

The journey seemed to be everlastingly. Mara wisely waited for the kids to disembark before fog marching the felonious child to Jim Davison’s office.

Knocking on the door Mara instructed the boy to sit on a nearby chair.

‘Come in,’ he answered.

She walked in to the office and closed the door behind her. Jim was sitting in a plush swivel chair with his legs outstretched. Because he was so tall, he looked like a stick insect precariously perched on a branch.

‘Hello,’ he beamed as salvia torpedoed out of his mouth.

‘What can I do for you Ms Thompson?’

She then explained what