The Headmaster's Flame - Father of the Bribe

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Silence fell for a moment, as though they hoped they’d misheard Sam’s gut-wrenching bombshell.

‘You emailed the picture to Steve Dinkey?’ repeated Neill.

Sam nodded miserably, eyes on the floor.

‘What! What the fuck!’ Natalia cried. ‘But I checked all your emails!’

‘I… had it saved in m-my drafts. When you stormed off at PE just now, Nat, I got nervous… I got mad!’

‘I’ve given you 150 quid of my hard-earned blow job money!’

Neill swatted Natalia’s knee. But Sam didn’t seem to hear, face shining with tears.

‘I thought you were gonna bring in Neill to strangle me, I, I… was scared—’

‘I’ll fucking strangle, kick and punch your lights out myself!’

‘Girls, girls, enough…’

‘They say you need at least Cs and Bs to do Health and Beauty Therapy at City College, a-and…’

‘Forget City fucking College! You’ll get as far as the street corners if this school’s going down the pan and I’m gonna be questioned till I’m broken!’

‘I said ENOUGH!’

The bell went, as both the girls looked palely to Neill.

‘Sh-shall I go?’ stammered Sam.

‘You’re not going anywhere. I need to locate Dinkey fast.’

‘Isn’t Dinkey off sick?’ whispered Natalia.

‘Nope, he’s back in today. I believe right now he’s covering a Maths lesson…’

‘So what will you do? Distract him before he gets to his emails?’

Neill had his phone to his ear as Sam began to wail, tossing two folded twenty notes at Natalia.

‘Take it all back! I’m sorry, Nat… Mr Neill! I shouldn’t have sent it! I didn’t know about… everything you just said—!’

‘Quiet—’

‘He’s on the phone, idiot!’

Neill replaced the receiver. ‘Dinkey must have just left the room.’

‘Ring his mobile.’

‘The Luddite doesn’t carry it, it’ll be in his office. Break now, fifty fifty he’ll be heading there or the staff room. He only checks SchoolMail on his computer, mind. He’s Dinkey Dinosaur as well as donkey.’

‘Send Becky to grab him.’

‘She won’t be fast enough.’ He rotated his chair to Natalia. ‘But you will. Dart off to his office and make sure he doesn’t go in. Flash your boobs, tell him his wife’s been in a car crash - anything to divert him. I’ll stay here with Judas.’

‘No, no… Neill! I have a better idea! Cut the school of power!’

‘Pardon?’

‘Power cut, power cut!’ Natalia danced. ‘Dinosaur only checks SchoolMail on his computer!’

Neill stood up, smooshed Natalia’s cheeks in one hand and planted a smacker on her mouth as Sam stared open-mouthed. ‘You fucking smart girl. I can’t wait to marry you,’ he side-glanced to Sam, whilst Natalia glowed like an ember.

He snatched up the receiver. ‘Becky darling. Do exactly as I say. Go the school’s electric board and cut the main switch. The big red one, flick it up and cut the entire school of power, right away. It’s for the boards installation… ok, ok, great. Blimey,’ as he put the phone down. ‘I didn’t even have to convince her. She really must be bored today.’

A moment later the strip lights went off, along with the whirr of Neill’s computer. Cries of surprise murmured from the floors above and below.

‘Woww,’ Sam stared.

‘What now?’ Natalia’s eyes gleamed.

‘We need to get hold of Dinkey and hole him up somewhere. As genius as the electrics idea is, we’ll need to get those computers back on pronto to deal with the photo. All hell will break loose the longer the power’s off and it won’t be long before someone starts sniffing round the switchboard.’

‘Get Becky to scoop him up and tell him about her new kitchen?’

‘Hm. You’re expecting rather a lot of Becky today.’

‘She’s the sweet big-breasted decoy, who else?’

‘What do we have to lose. Go make three cups of tea.’

Natalia went to fill the kettle, fiddling the switch back and forth as Neill banged the receiver against the set.

‘Blast, what’s wrong with the phone!’

‘Electricity’s off, guys…’ said Sam faintly.

‘Oh yes, yes.’ Neill got out his mobile.

There came a knock at the door and the voice of Mr Khan. ‘Neill? Neill? We think the school power’s gone off. Are you in there?’

Neill, mid-muttering to Becky, raised a hand to Sam and Natalia.

‘Neill?’ Khan repeated.

‘I can hear him,’ said Clayton’s voice.

‘Last day of term and double the peculiarities!’

‘He’s on the phone to someone. Power must be back on?’

‘No Susan, the lights are still off. Let’s go check the electrics ourselves.’

Neill put down his mobile. ‘Right, Becky will text me when she’s got Dinkey. I’ve texted Clarkey, he’s on his way up. Meanwhile, Sam, delete the entire contents of your Sent items and Drafts in all the email accounts you use and show me immediately.’

‘Err… ok—’

His phone rang again. ‘Hello? Yes? Hi, Cathy, yes, the power’s off, no, no, it wasn’t intentional to ruin the roast lamb, they’ll be back on shortly. Please leave the switchboard alone, I— whoop, she’s gone.’

‘Oh god, Neill,’ Natalia wrung her hands, still dizzy from the marriage comments. ‘This idea wasn’t so genius!’

‘Nonsense. It’s working right now. All done, Sam? No, I said the entire folder. Right… yep, yep… now let’s see your picture galleries.’

Sam bit her lip and tapped through.

‘Goodness, there must be fifty albums of duck-pout selfies here and I can’t be checking through all of them. I’ll need to do a full factory reset.’

‘R-reset?’

‘A wipe of your phone, yes.’

‘But, sir! I’ll lose all my stuff!’

‘Tough titties, Sam!’

‘I either detain your phone till the end of the school year or you have it back now with a factory wipe. And wipe up your face before Clarkey gets here.’

Neill pulled a tissue, Natalia swiped and wet it with the bottled water, and passed it to Sam.

‘Th-thanks.’

Now a wave of chugging came from Neill’s computer as it powered on, followed by echoes of the same around the school. Lights flickered again and distant cries came of teachers’ relief and pupils’ exaggerated joy.

‘Ah, text from Becky. All go! Toss-up whether Khan or Cathy interfered - but Dinkey’s secured to the sick room. Where he belongs, really. That receptionist deserves a smacker on the lips too. Joke, Sam - stop staring at me like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Where’s Clarkey?’ stamped Natalia. ‘We don’t have time to lose!’

There was a knock at the door. ‘Can’t see my camera yet but that must be him. Get that kettle going now Natalia, make it four teas this time. Go let in Clarkey, Sam!’

Sam flustered in surprise to unlock the door.

It was Mrs Coleman.

‘Five mugs then,’ murmured Natalia.

‘Oh, hello Neill. I was wondering if you’re still coming out to get lunch?’

‘I’m so sorry Kate. I’ve got an emergency to attend to. Electricity going off, all sorts.’

‘Oh,’ Coleman eyed Sam standing there in her PE leggings, clutching a screwed tissue, and Natalia too in her sports kit, making tea. ‘But everything’s ok now?’

‘Yes, yes.’

Clarkey appeared behind her.

‘You called, m’lord? Leccy’s back on!’

‘Do come in, Clarkey!’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Coleman retreated.

The door closed as Clarkey grinned at the two girls arranging themselves either side of Neill. ‘How can I help, Neill?’

‘I need you to get into Dinkey’s emails immediately.’

‘No can do. GDPR, all that!’

‘I do not give one infinitesimal damn about GDPR,’ Neill rose over his desk on the heels of his hands. ‘As the Head I have automatic warrant to ransack the emails of staff and pupils engaging in defamatory subterfuge and this occasion calls for it. So come round here old fellow, and hack me into the Deputy’s SchoolMail before I cut this school of power again and hold Steve’s wife at penpoint for the name of his first pet, first street and the first magazine he lost his virginity to guess his password myself.’

‘Okey doke,’ he stepped up, rubbing his hands. ‘Quite nippy in the school with all the lights and screens off for ten minutes!’

‘Sugar, Clarkey?’

‘Aye, just the one!’ Clarkey pulled up a chair next to Neill. ‘Right, first I need to go into the school intranet for his email ‘andle.’

He typed and clicked as Natalia clanked out mugs and Sam sat brushing her hair.

Clarkey looked round bemusedly. ‘It’s like Richie’s Angels in ‘ere!’

‘Is this done yet, old fellow? It’s rather urgent.’

‘Your machine’s a tad sluggish after the unexpected shutdown. Ok, here we go. Sdinkey! Sounds like stinky, hurh! At thornwood dot ac, dot uk. Right. I’m in.’ He held up his hands. ‘Nothing to do with me!’

Neill cleared his throat, four gleaming girls’ eyes behind him. ‘Right, thank you Clarkey, that will be all.’

‘So now that data protection’s out of the window, don’t I get to see this inflammatory subterfuge and Steve’s mortal teenage sins?’ Clarkey’s hand stayed firm on the mouse. ‘Is this it?—’

‘Clark—’

‘…Oh!’

‘You had to go attach it inline,’ groaned Natalia.

The picture was materialising in strips, and looked rather grand full size on the computer. Richer contrast, light spilling in behind them, and detail of their faces, entranced by each other. For a moment it seemed dust was being cast like lovers’ sparks from the LED screen.

‘Well I say!’ Clarkey expelled a magnificent guffaw as the other three stiffened.

‘These are the kind of pranks we have to deal with in 2018, Jim,’ Neill exhaled.

‘Sent from Spollock. That’s you, Samantha?’

‘Spollocks alright,’ Natalia scoffed. ‘It’s Photoshopped, Mr Clarke!’

‘That’s quite a Photoshop job on that leg round yours, Natalia! Crikey!’ Mr Clarke clicked the magnifier straight onto a triangular crease in Neill’s trouser crotch.

‘Clarkey!’ Neill clicked it away again. ‘Decency, ple—’

‘Whoever layered that has an eye for detail! You’ll have a job convincing anyone that’s forged! It could be a John Vettriano print!’ Clarkey grinned round as both girls’ mouths hung mortified.

‘You mean Jack,’ muttered Neill.

‘Oh aye, you’re Jack the lad alright!’

Neill began sheepishly, ‘Photoshop can do some incredible things these d—’

‘I knew it t’first time she came into this office, you were eyeing each other over the desk pouring tea like candlelit wine! Her pupils were dilated like tea saucers and the less said about his dilation, the better!’

‘Sir—!’

‘Dalmatian?’ Sam croaked.

‘And now you’ve got another, eh? Got to mix up the IQ if you can’t the age. Go on, my son!’

Neill swept to the door. ‘That’ll be all. Thank you, Jim.’

‘Like I say, nothing to do with me! See you in a bit for the erections, Neill!’ Mr Clarke trailed off with a hurh-hurh-hurh.

‘Not that stupid joke again,’ Natalia groaned as Neill closed the door. ‘You’re just letting him go? What are we going to do about him!’

‘Nothing. He’s always been a pervert.’

‘I never knew Clarkey was like that!’ exclaimed Sam.

‘Oh I did,’ Neill sighed and sat back down. ‘Drat, it looks like Steve’s read the email already.’

‘Drat? Our masterplan has been foiled and all you can say is drat?!’

‘Fuck, Natalia,’ he glared. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck ten times over. Is that better?’

Sam stared, squashed between them.

‘I’d say more like what the fuck are we going to do now! Fuck these interfering fucking cunty twat of a cuntface fuckers! And you say you taught me to swear like a fucking sailor?’

‘All I know is I’m not going down on this sinking ship,’ frowned Neill as he clicked through the emails. ‘I can’t be sure he’s read it, but it was greyed out. I’m deleting it and emptying the trash. It’s not in his Sent items so he hasn’t forwarded it. But who knows if the knotty-pated fool downloaded it.’

‘Pfft. That’s the lamest swearing I’ve ever heard.’

‘Can I help somehow, guys?’ said Sam faintly. ‘To stop Dinkey going to the police?’

‘Neill, shall we have Sam tell him it’s Photoshopped?’

‘I think she’d have better chance of convincing him the Pope is Muslim. I can try, even though it’ll smell like worse dogshit from my mouth than Allsebrook’s’ - cue snort of disbelief from Sam. ‘Really we’d need proof of the original pictures used to make it. Ultimately we need that photo permanently deleted.’

‘Ohh… if everything goes ok, sir, will I still get… my grades?’

Natalia rolled her eyes.

‘Yes, yes, if you don’t breathe a word about this to anyone. Your phone’s on the table, all cleaned. Take it and go straight home. In any case I can’t have Dinkey grabbing you - here, here—’

Natalia watched incredulously as Neill rummaged out a Creme Egg and wrapped it in the notes Sam had tossed earlier.

‘Take this. You need the energy, and this for a cab home. Write your number on this pad. Not a word of any of this to your family or it’s all over.’

‘Yes sir, Neill— I mean no, I won’t, I promise… I’m sorry, so sorry about the picture…’

‘These things happen. See it, unsee it, sorted.’

Sam left, and Natalia slunk faint into the chair. She looked nervously to Neill, who was opening the window and perching to light a cigarette with a huge sigh.

‘Oh, god…’ she moaned, ‘I really hope he didn’t see it.’

‘I reckon it was greyed out by Clarkey clicking it.’

The desk phone rang. She jumped up to caretake his fag by the window as he strode over. ‘Yes? Yes, ok Becky…’

He covered the mouthpiece and gestured at Natalia.

‘Because of the blackout, the entrance intercom was deactivated. The installation men were waiting to get in whilst she kept Dinkey in the sick room for a whole twenty minutes telling him every detail of the stroke her dad had last year.’

‘Legend!’

‘They only knew the men were waiting when… you went out to answer the phone? And Dinkey was just hung in the sick room and put his feet up! …What a lackie!’

They grinned.

‘He was happy… what? Checking his email on his phone?’

Natalia almost dropped the cigarette out of the window.

‘Becky! How? I thought he didn’t use… oh right, oh right. No, no. You did a sterling job. I owe you one. Yes, I’m coming now to meet them.’

He replaced the receiver gloomily.

‘During the power cut he’d downloaded the SchoolMail app onto his phone. So much for Dinkey the Dinosaur. Said he left looking rather shellshocked. We’ve contemporised and contaminated him in the space of ten minutes.’

‘Ohh. Oh, Neill… what now? Shall I go home?’

‘Not till I gauge Dinkey. I might need you on standby to help me clear this in one swoop when I tell him it’s fake. If that fails…’

‘Plead him? Bribe him? What?!’

‘Yep. But not with you here. I have to go now, boards have arrived.’

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Her trembling toenails snagged her tights in two places as she put her uniform back on, inside the toilet cubicle so she didn’t chance seeing Luxton in the changing rooms. Then she drifted up to Maths in semi-delirium, dreading running into the softly-spoken Deputy more than she’d ever feared her PE teacher. But there on the first floor, she detected his chirping cry, together with Neill’s holler, spying them at the distant stairs busily directing two installation men like pallbearers of a huge cardboard box to the second floor. She could only imagine what had been yet said, or not, between them.

Noble’s brand new gleaming board was fitted to the wall, cardboard and plastic bits littered on the floor around, its screen bright blue whilst he stabbed a remote control bringing up menu after menu.

‘We’ll see if we can’t get some party games up on YouTube!’ Noble began, before tossing it and clapping his hands for everyone to sit in a circle to play Trigonometry Twister.

‘Aw, sir! Can’t we just watch a film!’

‘We would if I could get that thing working,’ he grumbled, when the game stalled yet again on someone’s confusion of how to represent a cosine triangle with their arms. ‘We’ll play Addition and Subtraction Bingo! Key Stage 2 level, nice and easy for your brains today, eh kids?’

Natalia chastised herself over and over again for not going straight down to Becky to warn her to stop Dinkey accessing his emails. But what would Becky have done? Thrown his phone into the beck? The Cock Beck. Cock Becky. She was surprised Neill hadn’t cracked that joke. Maybe she would, once they can clear this mess quickly and get back to cracking jokes again. She’d never left Neill’s office without a little kiss somewhere and she’d even swap that heartstopper power cut smooch for a departing peck on the knuckles. Her power cut idea probably did them over. Steve might not have even been going to his computer, fifty fifty, that’s what Neill said, and…

‘Natalia? Can you hear me? 50 times 50?’

‘Oh!… 2500.’

‘Bingo!’ shouted Anthony. ‘Aw, sir… not another Creme Egg!’

Her anus throbbed at the thought. Forty minutes of quick fire sums had made her brain throb too, pulling out her phone as the bell went, desperate to know if Neill knew more. No text yet - maybe Dinkey hadn’t seen it. Maybe everything was ok. Maybe, maybe…

‘Hey hun,’ Lana sidled up. ‘I heard there was an outage whilst we were out playing rounders. We missed out on all the fun! Where were you? I saw you in the changing rooms then you disappeared.’

‘I went in and cut the power, obviously.’

Lana laughed. ‘Oh, I’m so done with revision,’ as they flung their bags down at Science, where Khan’s new board was propped up waiting against the wall. ‘Mum’s expecting me to be swatting up all the way to Samui and back, but there’s just no way. Will you be swatting up in Wales? You’re lucky, going with boyf. I don’t know how I’ll resist those Thai guys for ten whole days without Alex.’

‘Better bring a suitcase of rubber johnnies,’ remarked Natalia to Lana’s look of surprise.

‘Fun experiments today!’ announced Khan. ‘You can make a baking soda volcano, blow up a balloon with Co2, or design and test a parachute!’ Whilst the class crowded round, Natalia felt a rumble in her skirt.

‘Just talked to D. Tougher than I thought. You need to go home, now’

‘Which do you want to do, Nats? I reckon volcano or parachute?’

‘Er…’ She was busy tapping:

‘To cottage? Now?’

- ‘Yes. Feign illness and sign out now’

Parachute out of here before the volcano.

‘I, I don’t feel well Alana,’ her stomach throbbing now. ‘That’s why I wasn’t in PE earlier, and I think now I’m going to be sick…’

‘Oh, hon. …Sir! Sir, Nat’s poorly!’

Khan stepped over. ‘Why, you do look pale, Natalia.’

‘Yes sir, I’ve got food poisoning, I need to go home…’ She was grabbing her things.

‘Will you need help getting home? I can h—’

Natalia was already at the door as she thrust out into the corridor and ran straight into a beige anorak.

She almost screamed. It was Dinkey.

‘Natalia—’

‘Hi, sir, I’m just on my way out. Home. I’m not well, you see…’

‘I was actually just coming to find you.’

‘I’m not well. I’m going to be sick.’ Natalia promptly leaned and feign-retched at the floor.

‘Is she ok?’ came the voice of passing Miss Francis.

‘She needs to go to the sick room. You can’t be going home like that, pet. Come with me, I’ll get you a peppermint tea.’

Now Dinkey was guiding her down the stairs to Reception. She wasn’t sure how to play this. She needed to be sick enough to go home but ok enough to be left alone!

‘Becky, Natalia might throw up. Can you get her a peppermint tea?’

Becky looked up in surprise. ‘Oh sure, none here but I’ll see if the staff room has any.’

She hurried off, as Dinkey opened the door of the sick room. ‘Bucket if you need one,’ he pulled one from the corner.

‘Thanks, Mr Dinkey.’ She stared awkwardly at it whilst he stood there. ‘Sir, I need to be left alone, sir, I…’

‘Oh, sorry.’

He stepped out and pulled the door so it was just ajar. The beige outline of his arm hung there as she waited. Soon Becky returned and Dinkey tapped the door gently.

‘Natalia? There’s a tea out here for you.’

‘Uhh, thanks!’

A couple of dry retches echoing into the bucket should do it. Then she pushed the door, Dinkey turned, passed her the tea and she sipped it, almost burning her lip. Peppermint - even worse than chamomile. This was not just piss. This was minty piss.

‘Thanks. Right, er - I think I need to get the bus home.’

‘If you’re feeling ok now, Natalia, as it’s the last day of term, I need to talk you about something before you go. In my office please.’

Becky passed a tissue as Natalia wiped her mouth.

‘Oh? Aren’t you er - busy with the installation, sir?’

‘Neill’s on it.’

Natalia blinked away. She tried to signal a stare to Becky, but she was now turned the other way dealing with a boy who’d lost his PE kit.

‘Well, sir, I feel quite weak right now, you know…’

‘Only one flight of stairs to my office, pet, far easier than walking to the bus stop,’ his mouth a hard line. ‘I have biccies to give you strength. Bring your tea.’

She helplessly followed with legs like peanut butter. Even if she could run the other way, it wasn’t on these legs. Besides, it would look like a confession. Maybe she could get Neill to interrupt?

Tailing behind him on the stairs, she got her phone into her hand.

‘Dinkey’s got me. Going to his office :((’

Her phone flashed back:

‘We have received your item and are pleased to offer £75. Text YES to confirm or RETURN to refuse! Gold4Cash’

Perhaps Dinkey would be bribed with £75, she groaned, as he pushed down his handle and beckoned her in, and placed that godawful stinking mint tea down at her seat.

‘Sit down and take a breather.’

She’d only been in his office once before, to have her first truancy card in Year 10 signed when Neary was on holiday. It had the same bland decor as Neill’s, but with a smaller desk, a flimsier looking chair and a scent of mild sweat and lemons. He rustled out a pack of Rich Tea as her arm hair prickled in her sleeve from the breeze now coming in from the window he’d pushed open as if to say, a bit of cold air, biccies, and shit tea would set things straight for whatever was coming. Keep Calm and Crunch On, as she drew a digestive to her mouth wishing she could cover her whole face with it.

‘I need to talk to you about something rather serious, Natalia.’ The same shade of disappointment when he signed her report card was there now in his clenched jaw.

‘Oh? What.’ Too nonchalant. Widen eyes a bit.

The phone on his desk rang, as she endeavoured to keep her eyes sufficiently wide whilst he answered. ‘Yes? Bit busy here, Neill…’ Shit - make eyes not so wide. ‘Call on Noble or Jim. I’ll finish up and get back as soon as.’ He put down the phone. ‘I’m sorry to get you when you’re not well, but it’s not without urgency. Natalia?’

‘Hmm?’

He waited till she’d finished swallowing the smallest nibble known to schoolgirl.

‘Do you know about a picture, Natalia?’ he said softly.

‘What picture.’ She felt her head slowly begin to spin.

‘A picture of you with a male member of staff,’ his beady eyes bored into hers, ‘was sent to me by a Year 11 pupil today.’

‘Oh?’ Putting down her biscuit she stared at the crumb where her lips had been, as a sodden bit fell like a boulder off a tiny cliff.

‘A picture of you with Neill,’ came the voice that didn’t stop. ‘Do you know anything about it?’

‘No?’

He sighed and clicked his mouse. ‘You see, I received the email on my phone. For some reason it disappeared when I logged onto my computer - the mind boggles with phone apps and the like! But I’ve re-sent it, can you come round and look here please, pet.’

His prehistoric Dell monitor was too blocky to swivel. She took a deep breath to engage her legs, then as she stepped around and saw the screen, mustered another, bigger breath to exclaim:

‘What the hell is that?’

‘That’s you in your blue coat, it’s plain to see.’

‘What I mean is, you don’t think that’s real?’ Natalia scoffed. ‘Just look at the dodgy cutting round the leg area!’

‘Would you sit down again, please Natalia,’ said the back of Dinkey’s thin grey head.

She muttered back into her chair with blazing cheeks.

‘Take a minute, pet. Take a minute.’

Year 7 Sports’ Day. She was sure she ran faster than anyone, just like she had in primary. The wiry girls lined up, the whistle went, then everything tumbled and all she could feel was her funny bone pounding. She’d tripped over her laces, the other girls were way ahead, and Dinkey’s hand lifted hers. ‘Take a minute, pet. Take a minute. We’ll redo the race - Mrs Luxton, blow the whistle! Blow the whistle!’ And sour-faced Luxton blew it, the girls were brought back and the race re-launched, but Natalia’s stomach was heavy and her arm hurt and she couldn’t run at full speed. She came third, but Dinkey said loudly that she would have come first if it weren’t for the shock of the fall, whilst Luxton pooh-poohed it and Lisa McGann complained she would have come first. And since that day Lisa had had it in for Natalia, and Natalia always had a chummy, flat appreciative smile for Dinkey, which he’d return with nervous darting eyes behind his specs - that were now flitting over her like two scuttle flies, before he raised his chin to a knock at the door.

‘Yep!’

The door opened with a boy’s voice peeping in. ‘Mr Dinkey, Becky needs you.’

‘Aye, I’m busy right now.’

There was a pause. ‘But sir, Neill told me to tell you it’s really urgent.’

‘I’ve already assigned Noble to do whatever needs be! Now go, please!’ Dinkey’s neck strained like an accordion. She’d never realised his chin was so receding. Had it got smaller since Year 7? Must be part of what made him so unattractive. A man was better with a strong chin than no chin at all.

The door closed again.

‘Sir,’ she began, ‘I’m sure you know this is a prank…’

‘That’s just what he said,’ he sighed, removing his spectacles and rubbing them with a cloth. His eyes now looked even smaller, but perhaps matched his small chin. ‘This couldn’t have come at a busier time in the school, I’m sure you understand. But this—’ he peered through his lenses as he replaced them, like protective glazing over two chocolate chips that would otherwise shoot from a hot cupcake - ‘this could land Neill in jail. You must be honest with me. Is this picture real?’

‘No! Of course not! Who even sent it, that’s what I want to know!’

‘Samantha Pollock. I know she’s a friend of yours. She’s gone home early,’ he frowned.

‘Well, she’s not really a friend. In fact, she’s the kind of person who would want to get me into trouble.’

‘Oh? By taking photos?’

‘By making them.’

‘Aye, Sam Pollock, D-grade in Art and IT, is a whizz in Photoshop then?’

‘I don’t know! Maybe some lad made it! Maybe her brother Johnny, he’s always planting rude stuff!’

Steve sat back, whilst she noticed, in the middle of his left eyebrow, a hair hanging loose, vertically, almost to the silver rim of his specs. If it falls, she’s done for.

‘Sir, please…’ she implored him, looking right at the hair.

‘The thing is, Nat, six months ago I wouldn’t have believed it. But I’ve been thinking about the many times I’ve seen you with Neill.’

‘Like when.’

‘At the Parsonage museum back in November, he was glued to your side, right from the car park - I didn’t think much of it, then I noticed he suckered his attention onto you in the pub, and then had you in the coach seat next to him—’

‘All because Adam was a knob!’

‘But since then, being called to do errands, Mr Khan said. Aye and standing with him all the Valentine’s Fair…’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! You saw my mum causing all that trouble. I could say you were standing for longer with her!—’

‘Teachers have seen you emerging from Neill’s office after the door’s been locked an hour or more, deaf to the school.’

‘Pish!’

Steve frowned and moved his mouth, slowly, softly like he was delicately munching on her conscience. ‘Just what he said.’

‘What?’

He sighed and frowned. ‘You know, there was once, Natalia, and this is going back sometime in October - I saw him racing after you from Assembly and I couldn’t find him for half an hour afterward. Another time Mrs Coleman said you were knocking on his door, all caput and crying, like—’

‘So! He’s helped me a few times!’

‘Helped you?’

‘Like how you stuck up for me on Sports’ Day, remember!’

‘That’s not grooming, Natalia,’ he shook his head slowly. ‘Neill helping you with your upsets and ills is to make you feel special, to lead you to what he wants. I take it he singled you out from the start? Quiet girl, always alone… makes sense. Perfect prey.’

She detected the way he scrutinised her on these words, and suppressed the personal indignation. ‘Nothing’s going on,’ she glared.

‘Listen, Nat,’ he continued, ‘I know how hard it would be for you to say a word against him. A man of great influence. Great oratory and clout. He intimidates many…’

‘I’m not scared of him.’

He blinked at his screen, then back to her.

‘I’m not scared of him and neither am I having a relationship with him! If you don’t believe me, what can I do? I mean, you ask me a question and I answer it honestly! I’ve never been so… so—’

Dinkey was reaching down into his bag, and pulled out the old school tie, all screwed up and tied in a loop.

‘Is this yours?’

She stared. ‘No!’

‘It has your name on the label.’

Her skeleton melted like butter.

‘Why would you say it’s not yours, Natalia? Do you know why it was found inside Neill’s desk drawer?’

‘I don’t believe that. Because why would my tie be in Neill’s desk? How would you get in there and why would you go through the headteacher’s drawers without permission?’

‘He lets me use his office frequently.’

‘No, he doesn’t.’

His brow jumped, so that the loose eyebrow hair finally fell and bounced off the lens of his glasses.

‘I mean… he never lets anyone in there,’ she stared back. ‘I know that because all the teachers go on about how difficult it is to get into his office, I’m not stupid! That tie is not mine. Mine’s at home. Whoever’s written my name on it is trying to set me up.’

‘Set you up for what, Natalia?’ He fingered the loop.

‘Wh-whatever you’re trying to imply with that, that noose, I don’t fucking know! S-sorry for swearing, I, I—’

‘That’s not all. I also found this in his drawer.’

He pulled out and unfolded a stiff paper. It was her photo portrait, that she’d never received, with ‘Sample’ printed over the top, rather creased.

‘Oh come on. That’s an obvious plant.’

‘Is it?’

‘Mr Dinkey, please understand this from my point of view. You’re putting two and two together to make seventeen. What are you saying this screwed up tie and screwed up picture mean?’

‘Something screwed up that, aye, I don’t care to imagine.’ He tossed them back down into his bag. ‘Although I’ve shown you these two things that concern you, there’s other things that have been found. It’s not just you he’s preyed on.’

‘What! Who? When?’

They caught eyes. She cleared her throat hurriedly.

‘The point is, I don’t believe any of this. Neill isn’t a bad man preying on me, or anyone. I don’t believe you, you’re making it up, you’re—’

‘Neill’s been seen in the PE showers, going through girls’ belongings.’

‘Hmph! Probably to find some decent shower gel!’

‘Girls’ pads have been found in Neill’s bin. Knicker pads. You’re just the first named person to be identified, Natalia. You’ll find, whether it’s to your reassurance or dismay, that that wicked man has a history.’

‘History?’ Her heart creaked.

‘Yes.’

‘Well,’ she swallowed, ‘what?’

‘Just before he started as our Head. He was seen by a member of Thornwood staff out with two teenage girls in school uniform near York Dungeons.’

‘That’s bollocks!’ she trembled. ‘He loves women, grown women, big old buxom women with knockers hanging off them like they’re going out of fashion, in his words! I mean everyone knows that’s why he hired Beh—’

‘Well the police will work out his spectrum of tastes, along with the photo and the items and the evidence I’ve compiled. And if there’s more that’s happened than this photo, Natalia, although you don’t have to tell me, it’s you will have the power to herald the safety of all girls, and boys in the school.’

‘Boys? What is he, Gary Glitter?’

‘His crimes are on par.’

‘Wh-what, you’re going to ruin my life, as well as Neill’s, and everyone in the school’s - when he gets arrested and the school goes down the pan?’

‘Oh the school won’t go down the pan but he will. You’re a child, Natalia.’

‘I’m actually sixt—’

‘Sixteen, yes, on the cusp between child and adult. Do you think a 16-year old is in control of their faculties to a man who, positioned in authority, abuses his power to romantically interest her? I see it all now!’ He shook his head mournfully. ‘We let in a Head who’s trampled decency, I never, just never would believe it! We were all fawning over him, ignoring all the signs, we, we…’

She felt she ought to keep silent whilst Dinkey squeezed his eyes closed, possessed for a moment by self-flagellating penitence, ‘I just cannot apologise enough, Nat - for failing to protect you!’ His eyes went all gluey and fixed on her. ‘You will be supported, and guided—’

‘Stop it Mr Dinkey,’ she paled, a tear pricking.

He drew a tissue for himself and offered the box.

‘Stop it, this isn’t fair on Neill, I don’t want him to—’

‘Don’t want him to… what?’

She pulled and buried her nose in a tissue.

‘I’ll be by your side through this, Nat…’

She wiped her eyes and forced a glare. ‘I’m angry, I’m angry that you’re making all this up and not listening to me! Where’s the fairness in that! I… I… look, I don’t feel well, I just need to go ho—’ Two tears tumbled as her voicebox dissolved.

‘I think that’s enough for now. Finish your biscuit and tea, take a moment, pet, take a moment.’

She moved the cardboard mush around her mouth, desperate for the slightest bit of sugar for strength to get the fuck out of here.

‘Write your mobile number here please,’ he jotted upon a reporter’s notepad and pushed it over, ‘and here’s mine, in case we need to communicate. I’m escorting you down to sign out. You will go straight home please, Natalia, to your mum—’

‘You’re not going to talk to my mum?’

He paused. ‘Not yet, if you prefer me not to. I’ll be with Neill for the next few hours, so there’s no danger of him fraternising with any pupil till well past hometime.’

‘You’re not… going to the police right now?’

‘As I said, this matter will be dealt with as soon as possible. I have every intention to—’

He was cut off by a blaring, pealing siren through the room, and a distant, muffled orchestra of chair scraping.

‘My oh my. Fire drill, on the last day of term? Get your things, let’s go.’

Chattering pupils swarmed the corridors, as Natalia spilled away from Dinkey across the yard to her form queue.

‘Nat! You’re still here!’ Lana turned. ‘Let me guess, you set off the fire bell too?’

‘Only way to stop Dr Dolittle trying to cure me with mint tea,’ as Aisha and Gemma broke out in laughter, till all eyes faced front to the not-so-clockwork orange whose admonitory bellow bouncing across the concrete would have been enough to deaden their eardrums if it weren’t for the shard of sunlight bouncing off his suit to blind them too.

‘Holy macar-onnnni,’ breathed Lana. ‘He set off the alarm.’

‘How… do you mean?’

‘Because he’s fire, durh.’

‘Ohh—’

‘As we miss Assembly this week, this was the only way to get you all together to wish you a most Happy Easter!’ Cue hundreds of smiles, groans and laughs, as Bond-cum-gameshow host stood centre to two bemused CTouch installation men like bodyguards with their arms folded. Natalia looked to their boiler suit crotches with a sudden thought of how long it would take to lick all six balls and shout Bingo, six makes three! Let’s make a baking soda volcano, girls!— and throw their knicker pads in the air whilst Dinkey screwed his face in despair.

‘Mr Dinkey! Please begin to lead lower school back in!’

The lines disbanded, and disobedient Dinkey came beside Natalia. ‘I’m escorting you now to sign out.’ Her lightness of respite was fast re-weighted by solemnity by the time they reached Reception, like someone had merely suspended a pair of fat Becky udders in their hands and dropped them down again. ‘Straight home, please.’ As soon as Dinkey had gone, Becky blinked earnestly.

‘Love? What is it?’

‘I… I really need to be sick this time…’

‘Come quick, quick.’ Becky ushered her in whilst her phones on the desk tinkled away for her attention.

‘That alarm was something to do with Neill, wasn’t it? I saw Sam sign out? Dinkey knows something, doesn’t he—?’

‘It’s over, Becky,’ Natalia wept in Becky’s arms. ‘He’s going to the police. It’s all over.’

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Neill paced the lounge ferociously weaving contrails of smoke from one end to the other. Natalia sat with her palms clamped between her knees, staring at her cold tea.

‘Well you couldn’t get a more different reaction than Clarkey’s. But he’s not going to the police just yet. It’s taken half the evening to nail those boards firmly to the walls and he wants to see sign-off from Shaf by tonight for the next 80 grand. Everyone’s winding down for Easter but Muslims. Oh, and perhaps old conscious Pontius wants me crucified on Good Friday.’

‘So, tomorrow it’s all over?’

‘I didn’t admit to anything,’ he gestured his palm. ‘I said this picture is not proof of anything.’

‘Me too. I acted all the way. Told him it’s fake and nothing is going on.’

‘And that smidgen of doubt is what makes the yep-yep-Deputy hold his horses, even if they’re mere Shetland ponies.’

He flourished his fag to her, as she made a despondent sigh on it.

‘Thing is, he pulled me up on a bunch of things he’s seen going right back to November,’ she blew a weak vertical contrail through his, watching the cross of smoke now looming over her. ‘You running to me after Assembly, teachers suspecting I’m locked inside your office…’

‘Oh boy. Did you hang in there?’

‘I didn’t start confessing if that’s what you mean. He kept going on about how serious it is and the police will question me, and I must be strong, and he took my number in case he needs to call me, and ah—’ She passed the cigarette back and rubbed her face.

‘Well, I would’ve set off the fire bell quicker than this room would, but I couldn’t leave the boards men. I sent Johnny Pollock on the mission.’

‘Johnny Pollock! So discipline is now an extinct tits-up species and you’ve let him live out his desires?’

The mirth in his face piqued hers. ‘Burn a cake in Food Tech, vape in the toilet, just get those alarms going and I’ll see you right.’

‘See him right with what, a fistful of fags?’

‘That, a few bags of gummy bears, and…’

‘And?’

‘My log-in for Pascal’s Subsluts.’

‘What? Isn’t he like 13?’

‘Next month yes.’

‘A Headmaster subscribed a Year 8 schoolboy to a porn network?’

‘To be fair, he was watching worse. All-American waxed flanges and snuff death-rape. He’s now watching real sex, all the women consenting, all British, no adverts, no interruptions… it will keep him safely occupied.’

‘I didn’t even know you paid for porn.’

‘I don’t, since I saw you in the red leotard.’

She sighed. ‘I’m surprised Dink didn’t get hold of that.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘My tie! He presented it to me, still in a loop from when you force-fucked me over your desk. I had to play all innocent smoothie and try to remember your old adage never to be embarrassed!’

‘Fuck! He must have got it when I was smoking out of my window giving him a misty-eyed monologue about how much I care for kids, in fact I care too much for kids, since my first wife had a miscarriage. She didn’t, by the way.’

‘Oh.’

‘What a sly bastard to go rummaging in my drawer!’

‘But Neill - he also found my school photo in there! The one I told you I never received, and you said, how strange?’

He looked sheepish.

‘Why did you keep that?! Talk about the smoking gun!’

‘They were delivered just after the Morocco trip,’ he sighed, ‘just before I was going on the Oxford conference, when I had the entire staff fawning in my room. You looked so cute that I had to secrete you in my drawer till I had a moment to take a good hard look.’

‘Really.’

‘It said sample on it after all, with lots of lines I had to fill in.’

She groaned. ‘He thinks you’re shagging all the teenage girls in Leeds - and boys too! Are you?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Says you were rifling through girls’ bags and hoarding their sanitary wear!’

He screwed his face. ‘Now that’s a school yard porkie!—’

‘Like two schoolgirls you porked in York?’

He stared. ‘The only two slips I’ve picked up in York was a double parking penalty at the Grand Opera House on the day its Nutcracker matinée was mobbed by a local class trip!’

‘True. I once saw the notices in your glovebox. But what about these knicker pads?’

‘Come again, officer?’

‘Panty liners in your bin…’

‘The one I ripped from your knickers?’

‘Er… oh.’

‘Yes, oh! Thank you for believing I’m not a fucking paedo.’

‘Well, there’s you telling me not to bin used condoms on school grounds!’

‘And there’s you saucing Mrs Tracey’s sandwich with it!’

‘Only learning from the one who gave a bottle of my piss to my Science teacher!’

They went silent, their glares meeting and melting into a mutually forlorn smirk.

‘Neill, I’m sorry, I…’ she sighed. ‘Dinkey was… just, like I’ve never seen him.’

‘Listen. It sounds like Steve’s given you the good civilian spiel. Of course he has to sound even to himself like he’s doing the right thing. But being holidays now, he might rest easy that the kids are safe from the molester to make him die another day. Like I say, Dink desperately wants to see the school soak up some of the success they’ve been waiting wonky-donkeys’ years for. He feels terrible that waving that photo down the bobby shop would be waving a million quid goodbye.’

‘It’s more than a photo, but a tie with my name on it. Shouldn’t you be trying harder to iron this out, in his eyes?’

‘You’d have to unknot it first, and I think his nose would get in the way.’

‘Neill! This isn’t funny.’

‘Those knots were tight. A more difficult bugger than you were over my desk.’

She sighed as he stepped over.

‘It was a good fuck, wasn’t it?’

‘I wanked all Saturday over it,’ she murmured.

He laughed softly, pulling her shoulder. ‘Let’s turn that frown upside down. Let’s do it right now, right over the couch back—’

‘Neill, stop it! This is serious - you need to be serious!’

‘Alright, alright,’ he let go. ‘Look, I’ve played ball and convinced Dinkey that I would welcome the police, cap in hand, to talk pupil picture pranks all day. My willingness in itself deters him, which allows me to bide my time.’

‘Time to do what, bribe him with Nike trainers? Cannabis oil? Let him bugger you with butter?’

‘I don’t know yet. If he was anything like Clarkey we could have you suck his balls.’

‘Puh-lease.’

‘What the staff don’t know yet is that everything’s going tits up anyway after an email came in from Ofsted today, sent to Steve and I. I still had his hacked email open, so I deleted it before he could see it. It’s likely the school’s grading will be dropped and then the grant too…’

‘Oh fuck! Then he’ll really go to the police!’

‘We might squeeze in our holiday.’

Natalia’s head dropped between her knees as she moaned softly, before she violently swung her ponytail up in the air.

‘Let’s murder him!’

‘Didn’t you just urge me to be serious?’

‘Can’t you go round his house tonight and talk to him? Give him every penny we’ve… you’ve, got? Your cottage, your car? All your suits! Do you know where he lives?’

‘Er, ye-es…’

‘Shall we start erasing our tracks? Shall I go home to mum’s?’

‘I think it’s beyond that. One conversation with your mum, her cleaner friend or my neighbour and they wouldn’t need to take a DNA swab of any floor in this cottage to know I’ve been riding you like Seabiscuit.’

She’d already pulled out her phone. ‘Telegram uninstalled. What about Internet search history?’

‘What have you been searching?’

‘Well, the withdrawal method…’

‘Oh, Lord.’

‘I googled whisky at one point.’

He put down his whisky.

‘Can’t we just run away? Go to Wales now?’

‘I don’t think that will look good.’

‘Christ, Neill, are you a sitting duck or what?’

‘No, Natalia. My cogs are turning, alright? I’ll think of something.’

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‘Wayne and Des’ charity hits its first birthday! Business is hectic for wedding planner Louise, whilst heavy metal guitar legend Jonny Hellraiser has bought himself a 1950s-style diner on the Costa Blanca!’

TV therapy, her mum would say, conked out after too many lagers in front of something like this. Turn yourself numb with Bargain Loving Brits in the Sun. Trash telly never made her want a passport, until Stuart turned up with his Maya menu of opportunities and suddenly her most prized passport of all, brains and aspirations, put her above the Sams and Ryans.

Today she would have given up all brains and aspirations just to be able to hold her emotions in. She’d failed to play cool, hard, and brassnecked to Dinkey. She hadn’t admitted anything, but as Neill came back in from his seventeenth fag break to find the plate of bolognese looking exactly as he’d presented it to her forty minutes ago, she felt that Dinkey’s digestive was still in her throat like a stuck confession.

‘I can’t even look at it. Sorry.’

‘Come on, Channel 5 will push us further into an abyss. Still want to watch The Wizard of Oz?’

She’d take a couple of forced chuckles about something, anything right now, as she curled up to his elbow to hide her rubbed-red nose and khol-stained eyes and watch the operatic opener of the 1939 film, cheered for a moment by the whistles and harmonies of the nostalgic opening titles, and Dorothy and Toto bounding around the sepia American ranch. But as Judy Garland began to warble Over the Rainbow, she fell onto her knees at the coffee table and wept her nose redder and eyes blacker.

‘It’s all because of me you might be going to jail! It’s all my fault! Oh Neill…’ She turned to him, quietly sipping his whisky and ginger.

‘I’m the one who grabbed you and kissed you before the door closed.’

‘Oh, but Neill,’ she crawled to him, ‘oh, but Neill, what will they do to you?’

‘I’ve been living in a delusion, Natalia. I’ve purposefully never thought about the consequences.’

‘But you did, you did!—’ her cheek on his knee whilst her hand palpated his cold, sockless foot, ‘you kept saying we should keep on the lowdown till I’m 18, or till I do my exams. And then it was my fault, lying about the stair fall! Dinkey doesn’t know that it’s not your fault! Dinkey doesn’t think that I even have free will!’

He coughed. ‘He’s right in a way, it’s my responsibility to—’

‘He’s not fucking right! How can you say that! You’re saying I don’t have any will or thoughts of my own?’

‘I didn’t say that, but you’re 16 darling. And—’

‘Oh fuck off, are you going to bleat on about my undeveloped frontal lobe? Why not go hand yourself to the police right now, let yep-yep-yep Dinkey dorkface saddle you up like his Deputy donkey! Why not grow some fucking balls and stop fearing, there should be nothing to fear!’ Natalia cried louder at the sight of Neill’s face dropping with exhaustion, and climbed up to bawl into his collarbone. ‘I didn’t mean all that! I’m sorry! I don’t want them to take you away!’

‘Come on, come on,’ he brought his arm around her, ‘this won’t get us anywhere. I’m not gone yet. Hush, hush…’

‘Maundy Thursday! More like crap, shit fucker Thursday! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!’

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for. It’s me that is sor—’

He took the cue of her bloodcurdling growl to stop on that syllable lest she bite a chunk from his ribs she was pressed down into, stroking the sobs through her shoulder blades till the clammy cold sweat had her flop onto her back, just as Dorothy falls back onto her bed, the tornado spinning the Firs Cottage into the air and Dinkey, Sam and the lot all flying past the window.

Neill threw back his last inch of whisky. ‘I need to nip out for a bit.’

‘Where are you going? To see Dinkey?’

‘Not quite. Are you still watching this?’

‘Leave it on for now.’

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Dorothy entered the technicolour new world, pacifying Natalia numb for a moment to imagine that Neill must be going out somewhere to perform some technicolour idea to save them. He must be. Nothing and no one beats the indefatigable Neill, after all. She recalled the look on his face before he’d gone out. Ominous, steelier than steely-faced Dinkey. Just like the ‘good witch’ now introducing herself to Dorothy, as Dorothy stands there all caput and crying like, Neill would wield his magic. He was the witch, the wizard, he was Oz the great and powerful, like he said!

Now Dorothy is swarmed by Munchkins singing that the wicked witch is dead. Wicked is what Dinkey called Neill. Was Neill a good witch or a bad witch? The Mayor of Munchkin City unscrolls a Certificate of Death, that flashes a thought to how he’d drunk a glass of whisky before going out. Neill said he might die another day, be crucified tomorrow. He was so distant, hardly touched her. Was he driving out drunk to end his life and not face the consequences? He’s ‘not quite’ going to meet Dinkey, he’d nodded toward his whisky bottle.

The bottle was Maker’s Mark. Maker.

Her blood flashed cold for the tenth time today.

Fidgeting and trembling, calling out for Ras - but before she could begin to find his furry body for moral support, the sound of the key was in the door, and someone banging their way through with something big and plastic.

There was Neill. Very much not dead. Her face fell on the two fresh packs of cigarettes in one hand, a pet carrier in the other.

‘Is that to take away Toto?!’

He sat down beside her and took her face. ‘Natalia. Listen. …Are you ok? Dinkey hasn’t called you, has he?’

‘No no—’

‘I know you’re tired. But I need you to listen carefully. Is your mum still up? I need you to ring her, so I can hear her tone of voice with you.’

‘What! Why?’

‘If something happens to me tomorrow, Natalia, you won’t be able to stay in this cottage. Can you go back to your mum’s? Or what about your Uncle Andy?’

‘I - I don’t know…’

He wrapped his arm around her. ‘Natalia, I don’t want to exhaust you. I talked to Dinkey and, well - he’s still not buying that photo is fake. If I get questioned by the police, and you too—’

‘Till I’m broken? I’m already there!’

‘I was just over-egging that for Sam. They will ask you questions yes, but they will treat you very kindly, because they will see you as the victim…’

‘Oh god, oh god oh god…’

‘We need to talk about this,’ he tugged softly at her neck that had keeled into his lap. ‘Look, look at me. They might let me out, on bail you see, but you’d need to go back somewhere temporarily, and I need to know you’ll be safe.’

She sat up. ‘M-mum’s, I guess…’

‘If you need money to get a train to Manchester to Uncle Andy’s, it’s here.’ He rustled out a thick brown envelope. ‘And there’s something else I need to tell you. Ed, you know, will be in Wales, and there’s enough money in here to cover a train to him if you need it, his address is all written down in here. I’ve spoken to him…’

‘What! What did you tell him!’

‘That I might be in trouble for drugs. And that you need a safe haven. I can transfer more money to Ed’s account if you need it.’

She shook the brown paper as what looked like five hundred pounds peeped out. What would have made her eyes light up yesterday, now made her want to vomit again. ‘I don’t want all this!’ She tossed it to the floor as the notes slipped everywhere. ‘I hate the sight of it! I don’t want you going to the police!’

‘I know, I know…’

She fell back into his lap and bawled. ‘I fucking hate Sam! I fucking hate Dinkey! What is all this to them! I hate them! I fucking hate them!’

‘Natalia—’

‘But I do! All that fucking stuff he said to me today! Wickedly wrong, I’m just a schoolgirl! I wish I could wash it from my ears! Pretending to care when he doesn’t know the first thing about me or my life! Acting like Sam did a great thing, when she’s a malicious little shit!’

He rubbed her gently and sighed, till she sat up, and the sight of so many Jane Austen faces over the floor made her face screw up again.

‘I’m sorry, let me pick up all the money, I’m so sorry! I’ll ring mum, and…’

‘Come, come - you’re in no fit state to ring her now. Leave that, I’ll pick them up. Let’s get you to bed.’

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Like the first night they’d laid in bed together side by side, the awkwardness could not be considered as it was then, utterly nor even remotely thrilling. Their banged egos, their ruefulness for the whistleblowers who happened to be the two most awkward characters in the school, throbbed louder than any part of their bodies could, and what was most unbecoming of all was that he hadn’t even nagged her to brush her teeth.

‘So what’s this, our last night together?’

She hoped the silence was because he almost asleep with exhaustion.

‘What suit are you going to wear if you’re all out now?’ came her quieter enquiry into the dark.

‘I’ll go naked to Calgary… with my Crown of Thornwood. Good timing.’

She turned the other way, silently sobbing.

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‘Father, in my life I see,

‘You are God who walks with me

‘You hold my life in your hands!

‘Close beside you I will stand!

‘I give all my life to you

‘Help me father to be true!’

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Who was father. Who was God. Who to walk with. The biological one who ran away 11 years ago, or the one who helped her on Sports’ Day when she was 11, ‘by her side’ now to protect all the other children from falling? The appointed proxy bald guardian in Wales, the brother of her mother in Manchester, or the sweet-scented Sminty Scarecrow who could get her doing Yoga on Christmas Island faster than Channel 5’s Jonny Hellraiser in Costa Blanca?

Or is it the one who lays on the edge of the bed away from her, who must have been joking about marrying her, reeking of tobacco and snoring from too much whisky, standing there now in her dreamscape, raising two middle fingers covered in blood from when he brought her to deep, penetrative orgasm on her period, her last splurge their Last Supper, dripped down his palm as he points to Dinkey: ‘He’s right!’ comes Khan’s voice from behind a door, as Natalia screams and screams, crying blood that washes Neill into a smaller and smaller lobster into the sea. ‘What, what! Oh dear! Oh dear!’

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‘I don’t remember, darling.’

‘Guh—?’

‘You stirred at three, asking over and over again if I had an idea. Told you I’d nearly had one till you woke me up.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Five.’

‘Back to sleep then,’ she yawned. ‘See if you can get yours back.’

‘No. I do have an idea. Come down, bring the duvet. I’ll make us a fire. We’ll have hot chocolate. I don’t have marshmallows but we’ll stick-toast some Parmigiano Reggiano or foil-wrap some apple and cinnamon and have a proper campfire as you wanted when I first kidnapped you, yes?’

She sprung upright, eyes wide. ‘No, Neill… I have one!’

‘Goodness what, a bedbug up your bottom?’

‘Let’s set the night on fire! You never burned those old school curtains - in the shed? Let’s do it now and eat your cremated cheese outside!’

‘Heavens. What about Bert next door?’

‘Who cares now?’

‘What about my duvet?’

‘It won’t smell any worse than you.’

He peered through the window. ‘Well, it’s dry out. Let’s do it, you crazy fucker.’

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Three hot water bottles on her body, giggling a mug to her lips as she sat wrapped in the duvet on a piece of tarpaulin, Natalia lolled back her head, watching the sun crawling up in tones of purple and orange on the horizon.

Neill stood in his trench coat tossing old bits and pieces of wood and the occasional flare up of plastic. ‘Shall we burn any stuff you don’t need or can’t take home?’

‘My Scrabble game?’

‘Why?’

‘I never want to see it again if I can’t play it with you. I had my fun with it and now it’s falling apart like me.’

‘I’ll fetch it,’ he sighed.

Five minutes later she was examining letter tiles by the light of the fire and tossing them in.

‘What are you doing, wicked witch,’ Neill murmured, snapping a mottled drawer front over his thigh.

‘D, I…’

‘S, C, O,’ he chorused, nodding at the houses. ‘I can see the third witch’s curtain twitching at our party. Bert might be a deaf old bastard but his sense of smell must be strongest on the street, and the brightness of this fire in the dark has probably brought his eyesight back.’

‘As well as any bright ideas of yours, Neill?’

He sat next to her and wrapped his hands around his mug. ‘My idea involves a risk.’

‘What’s new,’ she laughed drily. ‘Look - milksop - but I’m going to win this time…’

‘I don’t think denying the photo is going to get me anywhere - is getting me anywhere. Steve’s clearly got a list of deviances in his head that the photo merely activates.’

‘Yee-ah,’ as she tossed each letter.

‘My idea involves a course of action that would imply admission to what’s in the photo. But therein is the bribe.’

‘Oh Father of the Bribe, do it. Do whatever it is.’

‘I know he’s an early bird. I’ll try him at seven.’ He pulled at a skewer he’d left propped in the heat. ‘This Comté and apple is superb together. Here, you only ate a mouse portion.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Standing up, the duvet fell away as she finally hurled the cardboard box into the flames. ‘Be gone!’ She shivered. ‘Shall we go back to the normal fire now?’

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Arranging the triangle of toast in her hand like an angular D, a skinny Dinkey to whom Neill had been out on the phone for at least the length of three fags, she stroked Ras with her other hand. ‘Try and eat something, darling. For me,’ he’d stroked her sofa-resting head, as she watched dawn claim every inch of the kitchen to birdsong all beautiful and bittersweet. The first day of the holidays, the first time a whole fortnight beckoned a blank canvas for their forbidden love, and it was being thrust straight into the light of day, as cold as the cold toast she forced to her lips.

Ras rubbed her ankle miaowing to be fed, she wondering for how long to sufficiently starve him so he didn’t run off before having to goad him into the basket. Now the door jostled, Neill’s voice and complexion raising, the conversation clearly growing too agitated for the garden.

‘Steve - I’m saying that once the next stipend is in, I step down, and you will be first on the list,’ Neill crossed through the living room, his voice tailing up the stairs. ‘I do have the power, remember Jonesy? We go way back. That’s how I got the Head stint so quick. One word to him, and… look, I’m just putting it out there. My conscience?—’

As his bedroom door closed she crushed the D of toast in one hand. Ras sniffed her fist where she enclosed it, licking a buttery crumb oozed at her knuckles.

Neill shortly returned with a heavy sigh.

‘Natalia. You are the only girl I know who would turn a piece of toast into a pair of balls.’

‘You said step down,’ she popped one into her mouth, then the other. ‘As in, resigning? You’re telling him you will resign?’

‘And that I’ll pitch him to the governors as next Head. Keep the kids safe, and off I go never togallivant inside another girl’s gusset so long as I live, ahh… men.’

‘And didn’t it work?’

Neill’s head was hanging over the sink. She waited for the sharp inhale that would erect his shoulders into his next reassuringly succinct something.

‘He doesn’t buy my promise that I won’t get another job in education. He feels morally compelled to have me jailed and put on the sex register so I can’t get work again in a school.’

‘That’s not how a bribe works!’ Natalia cried. ‘If the motherfucker wants the job he needs to sign the deal in blood!’

‘I know,’ he said quietly, reaching for his phone that had buzzed on her last word. ‘My bribe has only poured fuel on the fire. Steve was spitting like an incinerated Scrabble board by the end, more livid than I’ve ever heard the man. Well - he’s texted to meet him at school at midday.’

‘To talk, or…?’

‘The man’s talked himself blue. It’s time for the boys in blue. This is it, my darling. Ring your mother for me now please.’

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From 8am to noon was four hours. Four hours left with Neill. She had no tears left. He’d fed her the last lump of cooking chocolate, a joint, an inch of whisky and two cigarettes to give her the strength to face the task of helping him tidy every trace of herself from every room in the cottage. Scientifically it wouldn’t eradicate the clues, he said, but it might mitigate or delay initial impressions. He’d talked to her about what might happen. Most of it she was too stunned to absorb - or stoned, she giggled at one point - about how long he might go to jail for… 14 years or 14 months if he sold his assets for a top lawyer and she didn’t say too much about the amount of sex they’d had, nor mention spanking, anal and girdle games. Goodness, Sugar magazine never talked about this stage of moving in with a bloke.

Her bulging bags were packed by the door. A binliner of ‘belting teeny-bopper rags she never wanted to see again’ was bagged up to drop by the clothes bank. Her mum had sounded normal and harmless as ever on the phone, with a tinkle of amusement in her voice that Natalia must have been dumped by her boyfriend. But Natalia had forgotten till now of her dad she was supposed to meet tonight. There were three unread messages in her Messenger that she couldn’t stomach clicking on.

Now Neill’s phone flashed time-out.

‘Not even 11.30,’ Neill frowned. ‘What does Pontius Pilate want, to tell me to bring my Carex?— Yes? Hello?’

Neill turned to the door, as Natalia stared at her pill packet in the fruitbowl, wishing she could chuck it straight in the bin. Not much point swallowing that anymore, as she took it resignedly into her pocket. Never had she seen Neill so quiet on the phone. He stood facing away, shoulders hunched in a Dinkian benevolence - god, Mr Milksop Mangina had mastered them all, chiming through the phone with a shrill telephonic tone like a woman’s.

She wondered what it’s going to be like living with the voice of a woman again. Then, straining to make out the words, she began to question whether it was Dinkey on the other end at all.

Neill turned. He was white-pale, like he had seen a ghost, staring at Natalia like one.

She bristled with a pang of alarm.

‘What, Neill?’ Natalia mimed, not daring to blink till she got a glimmer of what was being said by the only woman she’d ever known to stop Neill retorting or interrupting for a full twenty seconds now.

He slipped the phone down and tapped it mute.

‘It’s Dinkey.’

‘It… doesn’t sound like it?’

‘Sounds like you’ve got your wish, little witch.’

‘Huh?’

Neill’s finger slipped to tap the screen again as the speakerphone blared on.

‘…Oh I’m just all over the place really, but really, oh goodness, he was 61, 61 and everything was fine, till the angina of course… oh, he was seeing a consultant about it, they said it’s stable, we thought it was all under control, I wonder if it was the statins, or the nitro… or just stress of late, you know…’

‘Oh, Karen!—’ erupted Neill, before remembering to untap mute, ‘Oh, Karen!’ he re-erupted. ‘Goodness! I am in sheer shock right now, oh my goodness.’ His gaze levelled at Natalia, as their faces began an infinitesimal softening, the tiniest spark of something, as she stared and stared, mouth and ears wide open.

‘They say only a post-mortem will really prove it was his heart… oh, we just don’t know… the paramedics said it’s the third case they’ve seen this month, but I just don’t know, because I think he was suffering and didn’t tell me…oh, the poor poor man…’

‘He was a fine fellow, Mrs Dinkey. A Deputy of great longstanding, what a loss, what a loss this is to us all! I myself am just devast— oh!’ Neill choked a great breathy sob, all the while, staring at Natalia with eyes of a boy of seven, whilst Natalia just shook her head and stared some more.

‘All the stress of the grant, oh I guess you know all about that, I know he was sorting these boards with you, he said he was meeting you at the school right now for them, so I thought to ring you, oh what a drama, I’m so terribly sorry—’

‘No problem at all, of course it’s ok. Was he… well last night, Karen? Did he say anything about work?’

‘No, no - he just came home yesterday as normal, late, and he was very quiet, very tired. He even had an early night! Oh, it all feels unreal, it’s been a morning from hell, I have the coroner coming at 12, what with boiling the kettle nonstop this morning, Kevin’s on his way, my brother-in-law, you know - and I’m just waiting for Ellie who set out for a trip to the Highlands in the wee hours and she’s making her way back, poor thing—’

‘Listen, Karen, I shall come see you right now to give you my support with anything you need.’

‘Oh, oh - no, no, I couldn’t ask it, you have enough on your plate, I can’t—’

‘I’ll be over by 12. You’re up on Green Road, past the cricket club? Parkside View?’

‘Ohh, oh! Yes, well I would…’

‘I’ll see you soon. Bye now.’ Neill placed down his phone. ‘Shit, so he was ill.’

Natalia had barely moved an inch, not realising that her teeth were bared in a numb, wide-growing grin, the weed, sugar, tobacco and whisky making her head feel like it was raising completely off her shoulders.

‘Deh…. deh…’

‘Massive angina attack. Found him collapsed at the end of their driveway at eight this morning.’

‘Oh my god… oh, my god. Neill! Shit, shit!’

A most politely reluctant smirk was starting on his face.

‘How…’ she rubbed away the smirk starting on hers, ‘how do we know he didn’t tell his wife? What if she’s seen the picture?’

‘Do you think she’d call me if she did?’

She stared.

‘Well… what if she’s looking at it on his phone right now!’

He drew a sharp breath. ‘I’ll soon find out. Next step is to delete that email and that’s why I’m going now to reclaim his phone. It’s a work one, never wanted a personal phone. Always said he hated the things.’

‘How do we know he didn’t tell anyone else? Or the police already!’

‘We don’t, Natalia. But do you hear sirens?’

‘Oh, Nei—’

‘I’ll need to check his emails too and Clarkey will help me with that today. I’ll suck his balls myself. Up, up!— Give me a hug before I go…’

‘Oh, oh… oh Neill!’ She launched her arms around his neck.

‘I never thought I’d hear that again. Fuck, I need a fag. I need a stiff one - oh god, sorry Dinkey - hey, hey! You’re trembling all over!’

‘You too, Tremble Twat!’ she sniffed.

‘I caught yours. All because of that Nuisance!’

She drew away. ‘How do we know that phone call was real! What if it wasn’t his wife but an actress!’

Neill threw back his head and laughed, and the laugh rippled through the three fingers of hers that he gripped in each hand, as she stared to the ceiling as though the sun had just risen from the cottage beams to which his wide, nervous, but recuperatingly gay smile projected.

‘I never thought I’d hear that again!’ she exclaimed.

‘Calm your imagination girl, you’re been watching too much of The Wizard of Oz. But of course! We’ve got to verify it le-ga-lly! To see!’

‘To see?’

‘If he!’

‘If he?’

‘Is morally, ethically… physically, spiritually, positively… definitely Dinkey-dodo-dead!’

‘Dink Donk, the wicked witch is dead!’ she squealed.

‘The wicked snitch is dead!’ They tap-danced their feet back and forth as they high-fived, bumped their bums and shrieked ‘Dink-Donk! The Snitch is dead!’ - ‘Which old snitch?’ - ‘The Geordie Snitch!’ over and over, footstepping in a funny synchronised Morris dance till she rolled over the kitchen table in a daze.

‘Urgh, I can’t see straight, I can’t think straight… am I dreaming? Am I still fucking dreaming? Oh, Neill!— Ah!’ - as his palm slapped her bum.

‘Sit down, sit down. Eat some cereal and sit tight till I come back.’

‘No, no!’ She scrambled up and clutched him. ‘I can’t stay here by myself, what if the police turn up?’

‘Natalia. You’re safer here—’

‘Dinkey’s g-ghost might get me!’ - as Neill tried to shake her off, clinging to his arm with chattering teeth.

‘And what exactly do I do with you, Lady Macbeth? Dump you in B&Q for seven hours?’

‘Anywhere! Just pick me up afterwards! I don’t want to stay here by m-myself!’ He sighed and gripped her convulsing arm to the door.

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‘Take a moment, pet, take a moment.’ This year, Dinkey wasn’t going to be at Sports’ Day. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe jogging round the pitch blowing the whistle every two minutes would have brought on a massive angina attack in front of everyone to watch him keel over. He’d gone peacefully in his sleep, well, naturally at least, collapsed in the dirt by his Ford Mondeo, at their farmhouse near Meanwood Beck, ‘after my Shetland pony jokes, never knew the under-dressed dark horse had such a meal ticket of a spouse, she runs the equestrian centre,’ somewhere between 10 and 30 minutes after the last phone conversation.

Neill would now wonder whether he killed him with his bribe, and Natalia would wonder whether she’d killed him with her cajolement to bribe, or whether they simply killed him with a kiss, the photo of which Mrs Dinkey, the third weeping female Neill had shouldered this week, could not have been privy to - having thrown her arms around Neill barely with one foot through the door. ‘Women all want to bawl their eyes out on me. Is that a good thing?’ Natalia answered in enthusiastic affirmative, crouched in the back footwell leaning over the central console with her hand weaved through the crook of his arm. Had the secret died with Dinkey, had it died with Dinkey? - was the question hanging off their fretful faces, as Neill braked in the traffic, on speakerphone to the first teacher they wanted to tick off that list.

‘Quite, quite, Anne. A travesty for all, and on Good Friday too…’

The fag propped in his hand shook more than any Ofsted officer had made it. He must feel as faint as Natalia, but all she had to do was wander town shopping, sit in Pret and text back to her dad to say sorry, she’s had a crazy couple of days, maybe another time. And as Neill tapped to end the call, she mouthed into his woolly elbow another, and another, whimper of disbelief that every minute that passed on his car clock confirmed that her personal Jesus’scrucifixion had become Judas’s own.

‘Well that’s the frog swallowed, quite literally - and once we’re back home I’ll ring through the rest to make sure they’re all good little boys and girls who knew as much about Dinkey’s dilemma as his waif of a wife did. Squeeze me all you like - I still think I’m dreaming.’

‘So what happened with Karen?’

‘Her weak eyes shone with gentle triumph, brimmed with joy, because he’s been so brave, her glorious boy! Though I can’t say Steve fell as he’d have wished, I couldn’t help feeling like a war general bringing her gallant lies that would nourish all her days.’

‘Siegfried Sassoon?’

‘Clever girl. Dinkey ought to know that’s why I have this schoolgirl’s hand, and only this schoolgirl’s hand, twenty centimetres from my dick.’

‘Well, we all did war poetry in Year 10. Did you get the swine’s phone?’

‘From the wicked corner. You see, I went one better than my plan to tell Karen I need to claim his work phone back. I swiped it unbeknownst to her whilst she was blowing her nose. Can’t have forensics officers on my trail nor police, god forbid, when I’d rather have this blown it to small bits.’

‘What about my tie and photo?’

He shook his head. ‘Must be squirrelled somewhere. Promised Karen I’ll be back tomorrow. I usually let women hug me so I can root around in their pants, not their dead husbands’ cars, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be where you said he stuffed them back into that nasty little satchel he carries. I mean, it looks like an undertaker’s. He’s been spelling his own demise all along.’

‘Oh Neill,’ she sighed. ‘You’re so brave to do all this.’

‘Brave enough to goad Clarkey to crack into Dinkey’s emails again and even bosom-buddy Williams’ too, to be sure. No picture there, but an email draft to the governors about the ‘furtive headteacher’s ever-locked office and uncouth window smoking vice’. My finger slipped - draft no more.’

‘God, isn’t it dangerous Clarkey knowing all this? Does he want anything for keeping quiet?’

‘No, no, he’s fine.’

‘How do you know? Do you give him weed or something? Password for pastel subway sluts?’

He hooted in laughter. ‘Ye-es, and some crack. Don’t worry about him. God, this traffic…’

She sat up on the back seat and flicked up Becky’s number in WhatsApp that she’d given her after her bawling hug yesterday, and wrote:

‘Hey. It’s Nat. Have you heard the news about Dinkey? He died. This morning…. :0 I can’t stop shaking. Neill will call you in a bit… just a heads-up. God, it’s crazy right now xxx’

‘Who’s he overtaking? Duck back into the footwell whilst I shout down this fuckwit,’ Neill hummed down his window. ‘You there! Tombstone on wheels! Jesus died for our sins today and you’re going to cause a few more with yours? Get back!—’ He slammed his horn. ‘Goodness, everyone’s raring this Bank Holiday. Or raving - take a look at those strumpets ready for cocktails at barely 4pm!’

Natalia raised her head to see three cackling women walking gingerly on seven-inch stilettos outside Wetherspoons, Neill’s livid profile softening.

‘Crumbs, are you still meeting your lushes for dinner tonight? Or was all that a lie for the Sam money?’

‘Oh. No—’ She looked down to see Messenger had buzzed with a reply from Anton:

‘I can still come tonight?’

‘Which?’ Neill frowned. ‘It was a lie, or not?’

‘…Well, only partly a lie. They were offering to treat me.’ Another message flashed in:

‘Leeds City Centre is full, but in East Leeds, I can stay at the Premier Inn, next to The Brown Cow pub where we can meet.’

‘I’m just… not sure after everything, Neill…’

‘Why not? You deserve it after crying a pool of tears, Alice. This is what girls do when they have a tough working week. Bitch, binge and boogie.’

‘Whilst becoming bereft of badboy? What if I come back and you’re gone?’

‘I think you’ll find I’ll be putting my feet up and watching the football, waiting for you. The game that Dinkey wanted me to watch after all. I’ll keep my phone beside me and you can text if you need anything… counsellor, cab… or well-experienced cunt-grope for your classmates.’

‘Ok!’ She wrote, and said out loud.

‘You sound quite serious.’

‘Why not?’

‘About a well-experienced cunt-grope for your classmates. Poor Dead-puty hasn’t been cold for a day and you’ve washed the Good Shepherd from your ears?’

‘Touché, Mr Morality Orality. He’s right in a way, you said!’

‘He was right. Operative word being was, and tense being past. Because he was so tense he fucking passed. He’s bought it, like you have - anything nice in those bags?’

‘Only spent 200, dazed in River Island. Felt bad spending your brown envelope of money after you said you’re broke and for everything you’ve lost since your new expensive girlfriend…’ as she slid back down into his arm.

‘Well the fire alarm cost the school 400,’ he chuckled, his fingers clutching hers, and she realised how much his crass humour right now was his survival mechanism, had always been his survival mechanism, lest he wibble-wobble how only girls have apparent license to do.

‘Ah,’ he patted, ‘reminds me of the coach back from the school trip when I trained you to be that expensive girlfriend. But I do recall you mentioned those cufflinks I own, that are worth about the same as what you spent. I’ll fetch them when we get back and have them valued.’

‘Neill, erm—’

‘And speaking of strumpets, I met Dinkey’s daughter Ellie. Tall as a lamp-post, but rather cowered to find me in the kitchen, dunking two teabags in her favourite mug.’

‘She was probably cowering to have found out her dad died.’

‘Either way she wanted a stiffie. For the first time in his life, Dink’s stiffer than I am.’

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She probably would tell Neill the truth about who she was meeting tonight, if it weren’t for the certain amusement of his being kept in the dark about her own family tree climbing, no LinkedIn subscription needed. He hadn’t told her about the school photo he’d stashed to masturbate over, nor the truth about the ball from Lucy Jenkins’ bag - at first. And earlier, when she’d asked how he’s keeping Clarkey quiet, she caught in the rear view mirror, a munch of his jaw much like the way Dinkey’s did. And so, to munch on her own hidden thought made her grin, giddy inside, as though it were a necessary balance sought unconsciously in evolution by 16-year olds no matter how mature the chaperon of this one might purport her to be; a double bind of girlish diminution and superiority that was a sort of life blood when you’re doing everything your boyfriend-headmaster says, eating what he cooks for you and wearing his choice of dress out of the two you present to him, bought with his money, and ogled now by his big feline blue eyes as he turned his well-proportioned chin.

‘Let me look at you. My god. What a dress.’

‘Boden, 100% linen. You never get that in charity shops,’ she half-curtseyed her yellow shirt dress covered in racing cheetahs, shaped at her hips by a round brown buckle tie belt. Oh yes, he’s forgotten about the cuffs already. She’ll reject the Gold4Cash offer and have them returned before he mentions them again.

‘It even has pockets, so I don’t have to worry about my phone and money being in my bag.’

‘Run to me, my little cheetah.’

She bit her lip and edged over shyly, with a little laugh of delight that feels rusty, as he pulls her up on to his hips, and his hands run over her bottom. He drops her down again, takes her face into his palms, as she feels she’s missed this for decade-long days, as their lips meet, then warm tongues… and she feels as though her distaste for his fag smell last night was only resent that she didn’t get to taste it, like hopping on one leg or typing with one hand. Dinkey had Neill pinned to a wall and now he’d been seized himself, thrown off into the dirt, for all his eyebrow hairs to loosen, and fall… did his glasses crack? His chin, his chin must be receding into a gape like no photo could elicit…

Hush, brain!… for there in the shut shop of her pelvis, dry and dark and a little dusty, a shard of light was letterboxing through, from the man-soup of scents and squeezes, the Neill Who Has A History and now, a Future again… ‘Not Everyone Will be Taken Into the Future’ the exhibition they saw at the Tate flashes now for the Dead-puty… for only ‘those whom the headmaster chooses – he knows whom!’ gets to put their hand twenty centimetres from… oh, that.

‘Oh sir….’ She said it by surprise, accidentally, like it really was her teacher doing this to her out of the blue, because the sensation is so out of the blue, because Dinkey talked himself blue and well, she is no longer blue, she is out of the blue, and… Neill’s trouser protuberance growing under her tapping middle finger, feels as controversial as the first time she dodged his finger for the choix bun cream from her mouth.

‘My taxi’s here in 1 minute,’ she smiled.

‘That’s 50 seconds more than you need to nimbly dash upstairs, little cheetah, and fetch me the cufflinks that you obviously know the location of.’

She stood like a statue.

‘O-k… I’ll get them myself.’

‘Neill…! They’re not there…’

‘Where are they?’

‘I can have them returned! I didn’t text yes!’

‘What? To whom?’

‘Gold4Cash. £75. I’m so sorry, I was so desperate to pay off Sam—’

‘Seventy five?’

‘Y-yeah.’

‘Bloody hell, you’re ahead of the curve! I never want to see them again, text yes right now!’

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Smiling all the cab ride, back in her fur coat again, to think how this day started and how it was ending, was unreal. The Brown Cow - she knew it because her mum had once tried to get a job there, and concluded it wasn’t viable for the cost of a bus ride up York Road, when Natalia knew it was really because she didn’t brush her hair for the interview.

‘Oh, York Road is the A64,’ she read off a sign. She frowned, thinking of Neill’s speeding fine when he went to London. ‘Doesn’t York Road lead to York, not London?’

‘Aye, town-wards it leads South,’ nodded the driver, ‘where it joins the M621 and M1.’

‘Right,’ she sighed, her problems and suspicions slipping away like the last puff of cloud on the night sky. ‘Ah, the sky is twinkling! I can see all the stars!’ - as the driver looked amused. ‘It reminds me… it reminds me of my dad!’ To finally realise, tonight, why the night sky made her sad all these years, was the first night she didn’t have to be sad about it anymore.

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‘Hello, Natalia.’

She heard him before she turned to see, by the entrance, there he was. He had thin brown hair that must have grown since his bald-looking Facebook photo. A narrow nose, slightly puffy cheeks. For a moment she couldn’t believe it was her dad.

She came closer. There was a gap in his front teeth as he flashed a smile at her. A smile of recognition that made her heart fuzz.

‘Hello,’ she barely whispered.

‘Shall we go in? Are you hungry like I am? You see, in Russia, we do not eat and drink on Good Friday until the first star appears in the sky.’

‘Oh!’ she beamed and pointed. ‘There’s lots!’

‘Come,’ he smiled. ‘Come into the warm.’

He pushed the cheap plywood door so hard, it banged loudly on the other side and he gasped with an ‘oy oy oy!’ - as she laughed, holding the door for a family trailing in behind them, before following him over the threadbare carpet to a two-seater table.

‘Here, ok?’

‘Yes, this one has a nice lamp!’

She slipped off her coat as he unbuttoned his denim jacket to a black shirt underneath and reached for a menu.

‘I believe we order at the bar. What would you like?’

She questioned that she could eat at all. ‘Just a burger is fine for me.’

‘And drink?’

‘Malibu and Coke?’

‘Ok. Moment!’ he grinned, arising to the bar, and she smiled back, feeling that his imperfect English was rather twee, and that the subsequent conversation would at least verify that her own English - long embellished by verbal jousting and Scrabble games with her private-school Richmond, English professor Headmaster boyfriend - had long bypassed her docile mother’s.

She glanced around. A few drinkers, fruit machines flashing, the family noisily seating and now asking for a high chair. When Anton returned, she could see now that his eyes were brown. Darker, not almond-brown like her mum’s - so she did have his eyes.

‘The drinks are coming! So!’

‘So!’

They caught dorky smiles.

‘What would you like to talk about?’

Ball in her court, again. Oh, what she could talk about! Her Headmaster boyfriend is 90% less likely going to jail than he was this morning?

‘Where do we start? I mean… living with mum all this time, I barely know anything about you…’

They shared a hopeful smile, there was a look of despondency in his eye and suddenly she felt sorry for him. All the angry thoughts all these years, all the indignation and she couldn’t imagine berating him for anything right now.

‘It’s surreal, you know?’ she smiled.

‘So, real.’

‘Surreal. Like, unreal.’

‘Ah!’ His face lights up, and she is pleased she has taught him something. Then he drew a napkin, and wrote:

cюрреалистический.

‘Syur-realisti-cheskiy!’

‘Oh! Wow, long word!’

‘Oy, I barely know you, Natalia. Oy, oy oy.’

Enough oys now, she thought, as their drinks arrived. She voiced thanks to the lady when Anton barely gave a grunt.

‘As I’m not driving anywhere tonight, I’m having a double,’ he raised his glass to hers. ‘Nazdrowie!’

‘Nazdrowie!’ She smiled, chinking her glass with his and then placing it back down.

‘Drink. You’re sixteen, yes!’

She laughed, as she brought it to her lips. ‘Well you know, even though I’m sixteen I have no interest in drinking. Well, until my boyfriend…’

He raised his eyebrow.

‘I do have a boyfriend, and…’

‘Oh?’

‘And he likes a little drink, so… sometimes I join him. But not because I like drinking, I’ve never been drunk. Ok maybe once, a little bit…’

He smiled. ‘Drinking you might like more when you’re older, yes!’

‘Yeah, yeah…’

‘Does he know you are here tonight, huh?’

‘Oh, no, no, he doesn’t know about me meeting you.’ She smiled broadly, as honest as day like she was seven years old again.

Silence fell as they gazed across at the noisy family whose baby had thrown its baby food on the floor and a barman was arriving with a mop. ‘I’m so sorreh, love! I’m so sorreh!’ cawed the mother, as Natalia glanced back to Anton. Speak, she told herself. You have a right to ask that question.

‘Er, Anton? Can I ask you why… it’s been so long? I know you must have had a fight, you know, with mum. With Mary.’ She felt herself well up. Oh no, not again.

‘I guess…’ as he sipped his drink, ‘I guess all that time ago I was frustrated with married life.’

She frowned. ‘You were married?’

‘Kanyeshna… I mean, of course. That’s how we had you. In Russian circles, especially being religious, we would not have had you, without being married?’

‘Oh. That’s just funny, because Bill - you remember Bill from the church?’

‘Yes.’

‘Bill thought you weren’t married. He said that’s why your name isn’t Molova like my mum’s and mine - or Molov or whatever - that’s how I found you, because your name is Tretikoff!’

He cocked his head from side to side as though he were emptying water from his ear. ‘We were married but… she didn’t take my name. I kept my name because I knew I already wanted to leave that bad woman.’

‘Oh…’

‘The reason I didn’t go straight away is because I felt, er, how you say… pressure from friends, family, you see. But eventually I left to be independent, free, you see.’

‘I saw your relationship status said complicated,’ she smiled. ‘Uncle Andy? Did you feel pressure from him?’

‘Him and… others.’

‘Right.’ She paused. ‘What did Andy say? What did he do?’

‘Oh, that Andy!’ His voice suddenly rose. ‘Andy was a terrible man. Grozny chelovek! He made my life a misery.’

‘Really?’

‘Andy was the reason I left. Because of what he did.’

‘What? What did he do?’

He paused. ‘He… he tried to kill me. With your mother. They tried to kill me.’

‘Oh, my god!’ Her hands flew to her mouth just as their plates of food were arriving. Suddenly she was as unable to give thanks to the waiter as he was. And worse, the waiter had gone before she could ask for ketchup.

‘So maybe that explains why I left,’ he stuffed his napkin into his collar and picked up his burger. ‘And why, so sadly, I never saw you again, my dear!’

She sat frozen, as he reached and squeezed her arm.

‘So very concerned! Don’t let it spoil your food, Natalia - eat, please! —Yest! - as we say! Even though it is only English pab food,’ he chuckled. ‘This English Easter menu - lamb, for the Lamb of God, no good, no good…’

‘But, Anton, it’s a very big thing you told me. I’m so, so sorry. What happened?’

‘Ah, you were always what we call a pochemuchka! I don’t think there is a word in English. A child who asks many questions!’

He grinned, as she smiled politely back and slowly raised her burger.

‘It was one night, when I was out at church,’ he shovelled half his burger into his mouth and continued with his mouth full, ‘with Bill, you know. Andy had come to have a drink with Maria who was watching a film.’

‘Sounds typical.’

‘And when I returned and was getting ready for bed, making some hot cocoa, they tried to stab me in your kitchen with a skewer. One of those very sharp ones, that you get in meat, you know?’

Her burger fell down again. ‘Oh my god, they tried to kill you with a kebab stick?’

‘Luckily, I escaped.’

‘When was this? I must have been five?’

‘Yes. I heard you crying upstairs. I did not have chance to say goodbye because I feared stepping into the house ever again.’

Her sinuses surged. This was no dinner talk. This was no talk at all for public.

‘But… you left me with mum. How did you know I was safe with her?’

‘Oh, lo lo lo. You were a sweet child. No-one could hurt you, huh?’

A sob escaped her now, and unlike at Dinkey’s desk, she didn’t have to guard it with her wrath.

‘Hey, hey, my sweet divooshka,’ he gently took her shoulder and shook out two more sobs. ‘I’m so sorry to have you tell you this, and ruin the mood, huh? But at least you know now, not to hate me. At least you know you can trust me.’

She sniffed and patted back his hand. ‘Oh… d-dad? Dad. It feels so strange to say… and kind of nice.’

‘Say it all you like, please! You found me, you are the hero, yes? The hero-eeene. I am glad I do not have to see Maria or Andy ever again. All I have for them is - how you say - foul words. We Russians have a joke that if one wants never to use foul words, we have to stop talking completely! So eat, please!’

‘I really can’t.’ She took her serviette to her face. ‘Excuse me, I need to go the ladies.’

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She dabbed at her specks of mascara, smoothing the cheetahs on her dress. No wonder her dad ran off. No wonder her mum never wanted to call the police about anything. No wonder her dad never came back, and it explains why he could never have contact with her! If he’d gone to the police, the sweet child might have been taken away!

Neill was back afresh in Telegram.

‘All ok honey?? X’

- ‘All good. I fucking love you :))xxx’

‘Ahh, I’ll show you that back. Cab now? ;)’

- ‘Not yet but soon ;) X’

She returned to find the plates being collected, and Anton tapping his card at the bar.

‘Oh! Thank y—’

‘Listen. There is something I have for you, that I’ve been waiting for this moment to show you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Come, I want to show you. An heh-loom, I think they call it. Very special to me, and I think very special to you. I saved your drink!’

She laughed, as she gathered up her coat and they walked on through the annex door into the hotel.

‘I’m up one floor. Please, after you.’

The elevator pinged them to the second floor. ‘Just here,’ as he drew toward a door just a few paces away to Room 21. Twenty one is beautiful, Neill said. Oh Neill, I can’t wait to tell you everything about what the heroine achieved… and that her mum is Hitler’s Fury after all.

Natalia watched as Anton slotted the keycard into the plastic slot by the door. She’d only ever walked under the automatically illuminating chandeliers of the five-star Baglioni with Neill, and she watched now as the striplight flickered on, the door clunking behind them.

‘Sit, sit - on the bed,’ as he walked toward a suitcase of clothes spilled over in the corner. ‘I have never done this before, this… you know.’

‘It’s ok, you can show me,’ she smiled, sitting down on the purple Premier strip over the foot of the bed. Gosh, these rooms were tiny, but there was something sweet about the little plastic kettle, the work desk and chair that he now blocked her view of, his waist level with her face as she looked up in query.

‘Maybe I don’t show it just yet.’

‘Huh?’

His hands came to each side of her head as her heart fluttered.

‘You do not trust me?’

‘Ha, well, of c—’ She began to rise, but his hands held firm at her shoulders.

‘Doctors, nurses, you name it, but this is what they call breathing fresh air, huh? I’m glad you’re not shy.’

Her blood ran thick. ‘What?’

‘Shush, shush, my little divooshka,’ he stroked her ears through her hair. ‘You are my daughter, right? And I am your daddy. I can take care of it, of you, as they say.’

She wriggled her head away. ‘Wh-what are you talking about…’

‘The most beautiful actress too, huh,’ as he held firm. ‘But relax now, please. Enough stories. Now it’s time to show you who’s daddy, yes.’

‘You’re not… you’re… you, you lied? Y—’

She choked on her words, noticing the glint of something in his pocket as he swept his denim jacket flaps aside and lowered onto his knees.

‘So young,’ he grunts, his mouth at the inside of her knees, ‘so beautiful.’

Her body weighs like lead. Her thoughts spin like a whirlpool. She’s surely going to vomit the three bites of burger onto his big gross head shunting hot meaty breath over her tights.

‘I have to go… I, I don’t lii-ke this—’

He mutters something in Russian and looks up bemused. She finds herself falling backward like a broken dentist chair, his jeans either side of her hips, his gappy smile that she thought was so twee and teddybear, now ugly and menacing, backlit by the striplight in a fluorescent hell. Did he drug her drink? Or was she just paralysed by her own hormone of terror? She can’t think back, just hears his belt unbuckling, and suddenly realises his leering, pockmarked moonface is completely different from his Facebook photo.

Her mouth opened but no scream came. The staff might come if she could scream, but what had been that glinting thing in his pocket? She might be stabbed. And if she didn’t die in an instant, the police would investigate her, and her phone, and end up arresting Neill… oh my!

‘Ok. Ok,’ she shakily whispers.

‘Good, good,’ as he wrenches two thumbs into his waistband. Yucky fucker! She wished she could run like a cheetah from this fucking lying cheater!

‘But, wait—’ she puts ten fingertips lightly to his belt, shivering like it was the Arctic, ‘I was thinking, I could be the best daughter you could ever have…’

‘You already are, myeely.’

‘But I need to wee. You know, pee.’

‘You need to go to the bathroom? Kanyeshna. I’ll take you,’ he yanked her up.

‘No, no, I need to… get ready for you, dahh-daddy,’ her voice as pale as the walls. ‘In my special…kn-knickers, you know. I want to surprise you.’

‘Hmm,’ he chuckles. ‘Ok.’ He led her lamb-legged to the bathroom door and thrust her inside. ‘Go. Be quick.’

She slipped inside and locked the door, heart banging her ribs. So much for a window inside this bolthole. But thank God she wore the dress with pockets, as she pulled out her phone almost trembling it into the toilet. Police or Neill? Police or Neill? The police might end up busting Neill. Dinkey would have died in vain! She’d rather suck this disgusting man’s cock than have Neill busted!

Neill, text Neill. He’ll come quicker than any policeman.

She fired one after another:

‘Neill,help’

‘Right now help. Room 21 Premier inn, halton rd, next to brown coq’

‘brown COW’

‘Its not my dad’

Messages had a timer symbol. No signal inside the bathroom.

The door banged.

‘Are you in your panties, divooshka!’

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Father of the Bribe

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