The Lake by Louise Sharland (best ereader for pc txt) 📕

rain showers have died away leaving the air thick and humid, but inside the school feels fresh and cool. A large display about the Lizard lifeboat crew adorns a wall near the entrance, and next to that are rows of class pictures framed in colourful displays. I look around nervously. I’d considered telling a story about being a concerned relative, or saying I’m from the scholarship committee at Edgecombe, but it seems it won’t be necessary. The receptionist’s office, secured behind glass, is empty. The computer is still on and there are papers on her desk suggesting she’s just stepped away for a moment. The double safety doors leading to the staff offices and classrooms are blocked open. Somewhere in the distance I can hear an electric floor polisher. I don’t have much time – the longer I loiter, the more suspicious I’ll look. I just need to find Lisa.

I turn towards the wall of class photos and study the faces of the teachers and teaching assistants before finally spotting her. Lisa Gannon isn’t much different to the girl in the photo Siobhan sent me. There is still the guarded look, softened slightly now with a tentative smile and a good haircut, but the eyes are still wary, and the sense of overwhelming vulnerability almost too much to bear. I feel that ever-present tug of regret as I contemplate what Michael would have looked like, what he would be doing right now.

A sign next to the office points to the first year and reception classrooms. I slip through the open doors and make my way down the empty hallway.

Lisa is wiping down the whiteboard when I finally find her classroom. Hearing me enter, she turns and smiles, clearly thinking I am a parent of one of her pupils.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Lisa Ed … ah, Gannon?’

Her smile falters slightly. ‘Yes,’ she replies, caution creeping into her voice.

‘My name is Kate Hardy.’ I close the door behind me. ‘My son was Michael Penrose.’ There is a moment of absolute stillness and then Lisa’s face starts to change. First there’s a noticeable widening of the eyes and lowering of the jaw, and then the slow depletion of colour from her skin, as if a sheet is being pulled across her face.

‘I wondered how long it would take for you to find me,’ she whispers, and then bursts into tears.

‘I don’t understand why you’re so upset,’ I say, handing Lisa a tissue. It’s unlikely I’ll get anything out of the blubbering young woman until I can calm her down. I wait until she’s seated before I continue. ‘I got the distinct impression that you and Michael weren’t particularly close.’

‘We weren’t,’ says Lisa through a gulp of tears. ‘I hated him.’ She wipes her eyes, and seeing my shocked expression attempts to explain herself. ‘Well, I suppose I didn’t really hate him, Mrs Hardy. It was just teenage stuff. He was okay.’ She lowers her head in humiliation. ‘I was just jealous.’

‘Jealous?’

‘He was so talented and good-looking. Everybody loved Michael. He had everything.’

‘Is that why you threatened him? Because you were jealous?’

The girl’s mouth forms itself into a silent ‘o’.

‘Who told you that?’

‘It doesn’t matter who told me anything.’ I slide my mobile phone across the desk. ‘Read it.’

I can see Lisa’s hand beginning to shake as she reads a copy of the threatening email that she sent to Michael six years before.

‘It’s not what it looks like, Mrs Hardy. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just angry.’

I take a chair from the corner and bring it to where Lisa is sitting. Placing it directly opposite, I sit down. ‘How angry?’

‘What do you mean?’

I reach into my shoulder bag. Along with a copy of the photograph Siobhan has sent me, I also have the file folder with copies of the police and coroner’s reports. I make a point of ensuring that Lisa can see all the documents, photos, and official logos before I begin sorting through the paperwork.

‘The police report says there were a few anomalies.’

‘Anomalies? What anomalies?’

I pretend to read from the file in front of me. ‘It says here there was some suggestion that Michael may not have been alone at the lake that night.’

Lisa’s already pale complexion turns ghostly. ‘Oh my God, oh my God.’

I have one more trump card to play to break down her flimsy facade.

‘And who is Diving Fish?’

Lisa makes a retching sound. ‘I can’t,’ she wails. ‘I can’t!’

I grab my phone and begin scrolling through my contacts. ‘I’ve still got Devon and Cornwall Police on speed dial.’

‘Don’t,’ she whimpers. ‘Please don’t.’

The young woman is a wreck. Her nose is bright pink. There’s a damp patch on the front of her blouse, and mascara has streaked its way down her cheeks.

‘Well, then, you’d better tell me everything.’

It takes a few minutes before Lisa can collect herself and continue.

‘First of all,’ she says, dabbing at her streaming nose with a tissue, ‘I don’t know anything about that night.’

I find my voice rising. ‘Then why did you get so upset when I introduced myself?’

‘Please be quiet,’ Lisa begs. ‘The head teacher is in her office. I’m still in my probationary period. I don’t want any trouble.’

I take a breath and steady myself. ‘Just tell me what you know.’

‘That day, before Michael, well, you know … he was really on edge.’

I try not to think of that period in his early teens when Adam thought Michael’s behaviour was so extreme that he had tried to medicate him.

‘He was a wonderful guy – really he was – but he knew exactly how to get under your skin – especially when he wasn’t feeling right in himself.’

I’m not interested in her feeble attempt at shifting the blame. ‘Is that why you went for him with a kitchen knife?’

‘Who told you that?’ Lisa makes a small hiccupping sound as if unable to breathe, and I realise I’m going to have to take it slowly if I want to get any useful information out