that was. But suddenly Freya was out, and she didn’t like it.”
Now a turn to Sarah.
“Ms. Braithwaite could be so helpful getting into the very best schools. No, more than that. She was indispensable. But now Freya was out.”
Sarah waited.
“And suddenly, Ms. Braithwaite was all smiles for me.”
Now — looking away again, as if embarrassed.
“She liked me. And I knew that … that could be so important. I’d wanted it so much — all of last year.”
Sarah felt as if she didn’t have to ask any questions at all. No, this had been pent up in this young girl who had kept her thoughts secret.
The words would flow out on their own.
And at this moment, Sarah again thought of her own Chloe, how much she loved her.
Then, as if she had steeled herself, Sophie continued.
“When things started to change … I knew how angry Freya was.”
“I saw the picture she put on your door.”
Sophie nodded. “But more than being angry at me, she was angry at Emily. Whatever had happened between her and Emily, Freya had been punished. Exiled.”
Sophie turned in her chair.
“I didn’t tell a soul about Emily and me. Our new … friendship.”
Lower lip began quivering.
So difficult.
“But Freya had guessed, she’d figured it out. She’d been there. She’d been the ‘one’.”
“And do you think Freya has been doing all these things? The food? The car tyres? The rats?”
A nod.
“I mean, not alone. Someone must have been helping her. But it had to be her. And worse, Emily had to know as well.”
“And yet … she kept quiet.”
“Yes. Up to now. Up to last night, she had.” Sophie said. “But where did she go yesterday in London? Was that about to change? Freya must have worried about that.”
“Sophie — I want you to know that what you’ve told me … we’ll only use what we have to. To find out what really happened.”
Sophie nodded, and managed a small smile.
“I know you will. I can tell.”
And Sarah stood up in the mammoth library, so empty and chilly, with only this small island of light doing so little to dispel the gloom of books and darkness …
… and secrets.
*
In the car on the way back to Cherringham, neither of them said very much. Usually at the end of an investigation Sarah felt almost euphoric. But this case had been too raw to feel pleasure at reaching a conclusion.
“You know Jack, if you want to go back tomorrow morning, speak to Gavin and let him know what we’ve found — I’m happy for you to do it without me.”
She turned and looked directly at Jack, his eyes on the road.
“Sure,” he said. “If you’d rather.”
“Thanks.”
She looked out of the window. The rain, never-ending, swept past the car.
In the background all she could hear was the thrum, thrum of the windscreen wipers.
“All that money their parents spend,” said Jack. “But none of it makes growing up any easier.”
“It helps if teachers don’t tear into the kids’ hearts.”
“Yep, that’s surely true. The poor woman’s dead — but I can’t forgive the pain she left behind.”
“We still don’t really know why she killed herself,” said Sarah.
“True,” said Jack. “In fact, there’re a few loose ends.”
“Mr. Weiss?”
“Nasty piece of work,” said Jack.
Sarah waited to speak as Jack turned the Sprite onto the busy main road and accelerated into the evening traffic.
“Well, guess tomorrow you just tell them what we found and leave them to fix the mess.”
“Mess is the word for it,” said Jack. “I doubt Tahir will keep his job.”
“And I’d be surprised if Freya and Sophie stick another year.”
“Not our problem, Sarah,” said Jack. “We did what we were asked and we did it well. Got any plans for tonight?”
“Have a bath. Light a fire. TV supper. And then cuddle up with Chloe on the sofa.”
“Nice. Till you start snoring and she packs you off to bed?”
“You know me too well, Mr. Brennan,” said Sarah.
And she laughed,