The Teacher's Secret (47 page)

The little girl looks harder at Nina, as though waiting for her to step in. But Nina doesn't know what she can do, or even what Bridie is expecting of her. ‘Well, it'll be nice to have your dad come this time then, won't it?' It's all she can think of to say.

This time, Bridie's eyes light up. ‘Do you know that my dad's coming to the play?'

Nina gives her an uncertain smile. ‘If that's what he told you, sweetheart.'

But it's as though the girl hasn't heard her. ‘And that will be okay, miss, that he comes and everything?'

Now Nina is completely perplexed. ‘I can't see why not.'

‘Well, I bet he won't come,' Kurt pipes up again, ‘because he never does.'

After lunch, once the kids are back in the classroom, Bridie's seat is empty. This is unusual: Bridie isn't a dawdler. In fact, she's always one of the first back to class.

‘Has anyone seen Bridie?' Nina asks the other students.

No one has. She sends Jade to check the toilets, but Bridie's not there either. Nina begins to worry.

‘Who played with Bridie over lunch?' she asks.

No answer.

‘Anyone?' she asks, her voice rising. There's still no answer.

In her top drawer, Nina keeps a list of phone contacts for the children. There's no mobile number beside Bridie's name, just a landline. When she rings the number, there's no answer and no answering machine. When she tries a second time, again the number rings out.

Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she turns to the class. ‘Does anyone know where Bridie could be?' She tries not to sound panicked.

No answer.

‘This is very important,' she says. ‘No one will be getting into trouble; I just want to know where she is. I just need to know that she's safe. Does anyone have any idea where she could have gone?'

Kurt shrugs his shoulders. ‘No idea, miss. Except maybe she went home or something.'

Elsie raises her hand. ‘Sometimes she goes to see Mr P.'

Nina is gobsmacked. ‘She does what?' She's almost yelling now.

Elsie doesn't answer her. Instead, her mouth gapes and her eyes fill with tears.

Nina tries hard to lower her voice. ‘When you say she goes to see Mr P,' she says, ‘what do you mean?'

Elsie has started to sniffle. ‘In his shop, miss,' she says. ‘She goes to visit him in his shop. Quite a lot.'

More than ever, it's an effort for Nina to contain herself. ‘Elsie,' she says, keeping her voice as steady as she can, ‘can you tell me where the shop is?'

This time, it's Kurt who answers. ‘It's the hardware shop, miss. It's pretty close, even. You can just walk there. Me and Ethan and Cody, we've all walked there, no problem.'

Her voice rises again. ‘What do you mean, you've all walked there? Did Mr Pritchard ask you to go there? Did he tell you to come and see him there?'

Kurt becomes defensive. ‘He never told us to come. Elsie told us she seen him there. She said he was working there. But we didn't believe her. We said, what would he be doing working at a hardware shop when he's a teacher and that? So we went to the shop to see if he was really there. We couldn't find him but Cody spoke to one of the shop ladies and she said Mr P was working there but not that day, because it was his day off, so we just went home.'

Just listening to him makes Nina feel sick.

She hurries next door to see Tania. She doesn't have time to tell her everything—just that she needs her to keep an eye on the class while she tries to find Bridie.

She goes to Bridie's house first, just in case, but there's no one there, so she heads to the hardware shop.

There's a woman at the entrance of the shop, sitting at the cash register.

Nina tries to keep her voice calm. ‘Does Terry Pritchard work here?' she asks.

The woman nods. ‘But he's just gone on his break,' she says.

‘I need to speak to him, urgently,' Nina says. ‘Can you tell me where I might find him?'

The woman scratches the side of her face. ‘He might be in the tearoom. That's mostly where he goes. It's at the back of the shop. But you can't go in!' she calls after her as Nina heads off. ‘It's staff only.'

Without knocking, Nina nudges the door open a fraction. She can't see much but what she does see is enough to make her cry out. It's a piece of uniform—Brindle Public uniform—partly covered by a man's hand.

Panicked, she pushes at the door so hard it swings open. ‘What the hell are you doing?' she cries out. ‘What the hell are you doing with her?'

Startled eyes turn towards her. Two pairs of startled eyes.

‘Bridie,' she says to the girl. ‘Bridie.' The little girl is sitting on a man's lap. So this is him, Nina thinks. This is Terry Pritchard. The sight of him disgusts her.

When neither the child nor the man moves, Nina screams at Bridie to get off him.

The girl, clearly frightened now, doesn't budge. The man pats her leg—his hand still too high, too large, too awful—then gives Bridie a gentle push that forces her forward and onto her feet. ‘Off you get, darling,' he whispers.

Rushing to the girl, Nina pulls her close and holds her tight, one arm wrapped around her narrow shoulders, the other stroking her back.

‘I'm here,' she says. ‘It's all right, I'm here.' And when Bridie tries to pull away, Nina tightens her grip on the girl, pulling her even closer until, finally, Bridie relents and goes limp against her.

Nina's voice, when she turns to him, is clipped and icy. ‘I'm Nina Foreman, her teacher,' she tells him. ‘You know I'm going to call the police, don't you?'

She watches him tap a finger against the side of his face. ‘That'll only make things worse,' he says softly. His voice, rich and gentle, comes as a surprise.

She can't believe his gall. ‘Worse for you, you mean?'

He shakes his head. ‘Not for me.'

Nina feels Bridie start to tremble. ‘I'm sorry,' she says. ‘For running away. I'm really sorry.'

Nina keeps the girl close. ‘It's okay,' she says. ‘It's okay.'

Bridie pulls back so she can see Nina's face. ‘Are you still going to call the police?'

‘You won't be in trouble,' Nina tells her. ‘I promise.'

Terry Pritchard leans forward in his seat. ‘What's say we go and find Leonie?' he suggests to Bridie. ‘Maybe you could help her on the register while I sort things out here.'

This makes Nina bridle. How dare he try to take over? How dare he have the nerve to suggest anything at all?

Instead of falling silent, he keeps talking. ‘They get on well,' he says. ‘Leonie's always happy to give her a go on the register. And, quite frankly, she'd be better doing that than staying here listening to us.'

I'm her teacher
, Nina wants to tell him,
and I'll decide what she'd be better doing.
Instead she gives him a stiff nod.

Standing up, he walks over to the girl. ‘Let's go, sweetie,' he says. Bridie gives him a tentative smile and, to Nina's horror, slips her hand in his as they head towards the door.

Get your filthy hands off her
, she wants to cry out. Only the thought of scaring the child stops her. But as she watches them disappear down the aisle, another fear seizes her. What if he were to simply take her out of the shop? What then?

Her mind racing, she follows them towards the exit doors. And when she fears he will do just that—he will walk out with her—he stops at the cash register.

‘Leonie,' he calls out, lifting the hand still clutching Bridie, ‘thought you might need a bit of back-up help.'

Leonie is a plain woman, her lank hair tied back in a loose ponytail, but when she sees Bridie, her face lights up. ‘That's good news for me. You going to be my offsider for a bit?'

Bridie nods as Leonie lets her into the register area.

Terry Pritchard gives them both a wink. ‘Let the boss know I'll be in the tearoom. There's just something I need to sort out.' He says all this with an easy smile; a smile he drops as soon as he turns back to Nina.

In the tearoom, he offers her a seat then sits down across from her. Leaning back in his chair, he lays his hands on the table, palms out. ‘Okay,' he says, ‘so shoot.'

Nerves make her own hands shake as she takes a breath. ‘What have you been doing to her?' she asks.

His answer comes quickly, without hesitation. ‘Today,' he says, ‘I was comforting her. Today she turned up on the verge of hysterics so I brought her in here to calm her down.'

Unlikely, she thinks. ‘So that's why you had her on your lap, is it, to calm her down?'

He looks at her with distaste. ‘Yes,' he says, ‘that's why I had her on my lap.' The way he says this—with such disdain, with such scorn—fills her with rage.

How dare he? she thinks. How dare he treat her like that, given everything he's done?

‘I know all about you,' she tells him, her voice hard.

To her astonishment, this makes him laugh.

‘I doubt that,' he says.

She feels the colour rising up her neck. ‘Laurie Mathews has told me everything.'

Again he laughs: a sarcastic, angry sort of laugh. ‘And, of course, Laurie Mathews would be well placed to do this, wouldn't she? Given that she worked with me for, what, less than half a year?'

She doesn't have to listen to this. ‘She told me why you had to leave,' she says.

His voice turns sharp. ‘And what exactly did she tell you?'

‘That you're not allowed to work with children. Under the—' she grapples for the right term ‘—child-protection laws.'

He gives her a dry smile. ‘Which means I must be a paedophile, is that what you're trying to say?'

When she doesn't answer, he runs a finger over his lip. ‘Let me help you out. I think you'll find that what I am is a “prohibited person” under the Prohibited Persons Act. I think that's the term you're looking for. Is that what Laurie told you?'

She's not sure. ‘Something like that.'

He nods. ‘All right, then. And since you know everything about me already, I'd imagine you know why it is that I'm a prohibited person.'

‘Carnal knowledge,' she whispers, her voice tightening.

‘Carnal knowledge,' he repeats, ‘that's right. I have a conviction for carnal knowledge. And since Laurie told you everything, I assume she told you the circumstances. The agreed facts, that's what the police call them.'

Nina shakes her head. ‘No, I don't think so.'

He seems unsurprised to hear this. ‘Well, maybe I can help you out there. Make sure you're right: that you actually do know
everything about me.' He cocks an eyebrow at her. ‘So why don't we start with the facts, then, the agreed facts. Yes, there was a girl—Clare, that's her name—and yes, she was only fifteen and yes, because she was so young, I should have known better. I accept that. I'll wear that. But I'm not sure that makes me a paedophile.'