***
Standing in the corridor outside the head teacher’s office, Matilda looked at a wall of children’s drawings. The children had written their names on the bottom of their pictures and she recognised Keeley’s name straight away. She stood up and went over for a better look at the picture.
The drawing was of a princess at the top of a high tower. She was leaning out of a window looking out over the sprawling countryside. Her face was sad and there were tears rolling down her face. In the background, a large white horse with a knight on its back came charging towards her. The princess had blue eyes and blonde curly hair, exactly like Keeley.
‘She’s a very talented girl.’
Matilda jumped and turned around. The head teacher, Sheila Croft was standing in the open doorway to her office. A small, round woman in her mid-fifties, Sheila had an uncontrollable mound of mousey hair in tight curls. Her cheeks were red, and she had a slight smile on her face.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Sheila Croft,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘No relation to the great Mary Croft.’
‘I’m sure you’re asked that all the time,’ Matilda said, shaking her hands.
‘About once a day,’ she smiled. ‘Come on in. Can I get you a coffee or something?’
‘I’m fine. Thank you.’
Sheila’s office was small and warm. There was a large photograph of the school on one wall and a bank of filing cabinets running along another. Matilda and Scott took a seat in front of her desk.
‘I’m guessing you’ve heard about Keeley going missing.’
‘I have,’ her smiled dropped. ‘Shocking news. We’ll help out in any way we can.’
‘Thank you. What can you tell us about Keeley?’ Matilda asked.
Scott perched a notebook on his lap, a pen poised, ready to take notes.
Sheila looked at her computer screen. ‘She’s an exemplary pupil. She reads two years above her age level, and she scores highly in maths. Her attendance was one hundred per cent last term.’
‘I’m guessing you only come into contact with pupils whenever they’ve done anything they shouldn’t.’
‘Usually, yes.’
‘Is there anyone I can talk to who knew Keeley better – her teacher, perhaps?’
‘Of course.’
‘Was Keeley bullied?’ Matilda asked.
‘Not that I’m aware of. The children of Mary Croft are like one big family,’ she smiled.
‘Ms Croft, I’ve been a detective for more than twenty years. I know what kids are like when they’re together; they can be complete shits. You’re not telling me you don’t have bullying going on here.’
‘We operate a zero-tolerance approach to bullying at Mary Croft,’ the smile grew.
Matilda took an instant dislike to her. How could she be so blind to the behaviour of children. ‘I’m sure you do, but if you tell me there are no bullies at this school, I’ll call you a bare-faced liar. Now, perhaps I could speak to a teacher who actually knows Keeley.’
***
Lauren Beech was a tall, slender woman in her late twenties. Her features were small, as if intruding on her elfin face.
She’d arranged for a teacher to cover her class while she, Matilda, and Scott talked in the staffroom. Lauren set about making them a cup of tea.
‘I’m guessing Mrs Croft tried to tell you there isn’t a bullying problem here.’ Lauren spoke in a light voice that was almost a squeak.
‘Something like that.’
‘Mrs Croft is a good head teacher, don’t get me wrong, but she does view things with rose-tinted glasses from time to time.’
‘Was Keeley being bullied?’
Lauren’s shoulders dropped. ‘I’m afraid she was.’
‘In what way?’
Lauren brought the drinks over to her and sat down. Matilda noticed the teacher was drinking out of a pink mug with a unicorn on it. From the many non-descript mugs available on the side, she had chosen this one purposely. Lauren, a primary school teacher, didn’t seem much older mentally than her pupils; she wore her hair in bunches tied with furry bobbles.
‘The other kids knew of Keeley’s situation at home. Some said cruel things about her brother.’
‘Riley? Like what?’
‘I’d rather not say,’ she said, looking away.
‘Whatever you tell me isn’t going to shock me. In fact, I’ve probably heard much worse.’
She took a breath. ‘They call him names like spastic and window-licker,’ she said barely above a whisper. ‘It really upset Keeley.’
‘Did Keeley report this to you herself?’
‘Yes. I had a word with the pupils, and we did an assembly on tolerance and how people are different to us but they’re still people. I reported it to Mrs Croft on a number of occasions, too.’
‘How did Keeley react to the name calling?’
‘I found her crying a couple of times. I tried to reassure her as best as I could. I told her that Riley was none of those things, that he was her brother and she should love him as such.’
‘What did she say to that?’
Lauren smiled. ‘Keeley is very grown up for her age. She smiled and said she already knew her brother was special, and she loved him. She said she didn’t care what people called him, but she liked to have a cry from time to time as it helped her.’
‘Helped her how?’
‘She didn’t say.’
‘Is Keeley a happy girl?’
Lauren thought for a long while before answering. ‘I want to say yes, but I’m not sure. I always get the impression she’s hiding something.’
‘Like what?’ Scott asked. He didn’t look up from his notepad.
‘I don’t know. There are many layers to Keeley. She smiles all the time, but it’s not a genuine smile. I think she’s unhappy. I’ve spoken to her about it many times, but I can never find out. She always changes the subject.’
‘Does she ever speak about her home life?’
‘No.’
‘So, you don’t know if she was having problems at home with her parents, perhaps?’
‘No. Occasionally, I catch her yawning when she should be working. She says Riley kept her awake during the night. I assume that’s all it is.’
‘What impression do you have of her parents when they come for open nights?’
‘Ah. I’ve never actually seen them.’
Matilda and Scott exchanged glances.
‘Really?’ Matilda frowned.
‘Keeley’s parents are incredibly busy. I believe her father works two jobs, and her mother is Riley’s carer so it’s not easy for her to get away. When it comes to the open evenings, it’s her sister who’s turned up.’
‘Jodie?’
‘Yes.’
‘But she can’t be responsible for her; she’s only fourteen.’ Matilda had a great deal of sympathy for Keeley and this made sense of her fascination with all things Disney. Was she feeling left out at home? Did she hope her Prince Charming would take her away from her ignored life? Worst of all, had someone used Keeley’s situation to their own advantage?
Ms Beech shrugged. ‘That’s not the way her parents see it, evidently.’