Death of a Teacher by Lis Howell Page B

in a long time, but Brenda knew how touchy her brother could be. She sighed. She had said the wrong thing, so she would have to work on him a little harder. But he would come round to her way of thinking. He always did.
    She flicked the pages of the novel she was reading but she felt lonely. Callie would be surrounded by her kids and no doubt Faye Armistead would be having an elegant dinner party in her beautiful Georgian farmhouse. In the past Brenda had often spent Saturday evening with Liz and John Rudder. Why not try again? After all, Liz used to talk to Brenda about everything, especially her marriage.
    Brenda was totally trustworthy with secrets. Liz and John had had married quickly, just three months after meeting. Liz had told Brenda all about it – being seduced in John’s Ford Capri, then the worry about being ‘late’. To get pregnant was a disaster in those days!
    ‘In sickness and in health’ – what a commitment. And Liz said she had to do everything for John now. How awful and repellent, Brenda thought. No wonder Liz was touchy. When Brenda met John these days, he was all clean and tidied up – and Brenda wasn’t on her own.
    ‘Hello, Liz?’ she said breathlessly into the phone when Liz answered. She tried to ignore the irritated note in Liz’s voice.
    ‘Oh, hello, Brenda.’
    ‘I know we haven’t met for a while,’ Brenda said, sounding wheedling but unable to stop herself. ‘I’d like to see you. Just for a chat. I’ve had cross words with Peter and you know how much that upsets me.’
    ‘Really? What about?’ Liz sounded as if she couldn’t care less.
    ‘That silly chapel on Dixons’ land. I said I thought it ought to be closed permanently since that poor man was attacked there. But Peter got all upset. He’s very keen on the place, you know. He thinks it ought to be some sort of proper shrine.’
    ‘Oh, well, come over if you like,’ Liz’s voice was grudging. ‘I can tell you about the vandalism today at school. Teenagers have broken a window. Give me half an hour before you set out. Kevin’s just popped in; he’ll help me tidy John up. You know how messy John can be.’
    Vandalism at the school? That was new. This time last year, Liz would have been on the phone about it to Brenda straight away. But Liz’s reluctant manner made Brenda cross. Once, she would have been Liz’s right-hand woman.
    It was too warm for a mackintosh and too breezy for a cardigan, so when Brenda went out she put on her anorak as usual. She had her bag over her shoulder and sensible shoes for the walk. It was such a nice evening that she decided to walk down through Pell Marshes instead of round by the road. She would have avoided the marshes if they had been full of screaming kids, but they were mostly at home now, for their tea, computer games and Saturday night television.
    She walked briskly along, aware that a cool breeze was blowing up from the sea. Two men who had been dumping a mattress saw her coming, and hared off back to their white van. A chap walking his dog whistled. ‘Here, Bonzo!’ he called.
    Suddenly the marshes were quiet. The sun still shone, but there was a metallic edge to it. The wind blew up over the lip of the valley and down towards the river which ruffled as if a hundred knives had flicked over the surface.
    Brenda strolled along the path, faster now, deep in thought, the gin making her angrier.
     
    At The Briars in Tarnfield, Becky Dixon and Molly Spencer sat on Molly’s bed watching High School Musical Three .
    ‘This is rubbish,’ Becky scowled.
    ‘Yeah. I used to like it though,’ Molly said. ‘When I used to be mates with the others.’
    ‘And now you’ve only got me. You feel rejected and you’ve lost self respect. I’ve had counselling. I know about all that.’
    ‘Have you? Had counselling? Was it ’cos of your mother?’ Molly was curious. It was one of the many fascinating things about Becky.
    ‘Yeah, you know why. Everyone does. My mum took an