Innocent Lies (Reissue) Page 5

  Mrs Darrow stopped and turned to face him. ‘We don’t tolerate racism or bullying in this school, if that’s what you’re implying.’

  ‘That’s not to say that it doesn’t go on.’ Mariner held her gaze. ‘I can’t imagine that there’s any school anywhere that doesn’t have a problem with bullying. Some establishments are just more aware of it than others.’

  Mrs Darrow’s colour deepened before she walked on. ‘You’re right of course, Inspector. Realistically it happens from time to time, but I’ve never known it to be an issue with Yasmin.’

  ‘You have a good reputation in the area,’ commented Millie.

  Had she been a bird Mrs Darrow would at that point have preened her feathers. ‘Mm. We had an eighty-four percent pass rate at A-C and a ninety-three percent pass rate at A level last year. It put us into the top ten in the national league tables and this year we’re on stream to do even better.’ The numbers, largely meaningless to Mariner, fairly tripped off her tongue.

  ‘And is Yasmin keeping up?’

  ‘Her GCSE grades were excellent: Six A stars, three As, one B.’ Mrs Darrow frowned. ‘Although as with most of the girls, she’s finding sixth form a little more of a challenge.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Mariner.

  ‘The work is harder,’ she said simply. ‘Added to which these are girls at the mercy of their hormones. They get distracted. It’s not an uncommon thing to happen. They’re under an enormous amount of pressure, to be clever, pretty and popular. Some girls cope better than others. For Yasmin there’s the additional conflict that what her parents want for her isn’t necessarily what she wants.’

  ‘And what does she want?’

  ‘At present just to keep her options open.’

  ‘And her parents don’t?’

  ‘Like many of our parents, Mr and Mrs Akram have fairly fixed ideas about what constitutes a worthwhile career. Often those views can be quite traditional.’

  ‘Medicine or law,’ Millie chipped in.

  Mrs Darrow smiled. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘How have her teachers responded to the drop in standard?’ asked Mariner.

  ‘We encourage her to put in that little bit more effort.’

  ‘And does it seem to worry Yasmin?’

  ‘It’s hard to tell, but I’d guess that it might unsettle her a bit. Yasmin’s a bright girl and I know her parents have high hopes for her.’

  ‘Are they adding to the pressure?’ Mariner wondered.

  ‘No more than any other parents who want their child to do well.’ Mrs Darrow responded quickly.

  ‘What’s your relationship with Yasmin’s parents like?’

  ‘They’re very supportive. Many of the resources we acquire these days are accessed through specific government initiatives, often through matched funding.’ Seeing the blank expressions she continued. ‘We put up half and the DfE matches it.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Yasmin’s father has been very generous in our endeavour to acquire language college status.’

  ‘What about friends?’ Millie asked. ‘You said Yasmin is popular.’

  ‘She’s part of an established group.’

  ‘And Suzanne Perry, the friend her mother thought she was staying with?’

  ‘I was quite surprised about that I must say,’ said Darrow. ‘Their friendship has always been rather an unlikely alliance.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘I’ll let you find out for yourselves. Here we are.’

  CHAPTER 5

  They had reached their destination and Mrs Darrow pushed open the door of what seemed to be some kind of recreational room. Low, comfortable chairs were grouped around a couple of square wood-effect utilitarian coffee tables. At least she’d taken on board Mariner’s request to keep this informal. There were five girls present. They had been talking, but quieted politely when the adults appeared. Unlike the girls Mariner was used to dealing with, this lot weren’t cocky and streetwise. Even at this age, they seemed cool and sophisticated, and more than a little intimidating as they appraised their visitors. Mariner wished he’d checked his flies before coming in. Each girl had put her individual stamp on the school uniform, but one in particular stood out. She looked older than the others, not just because of her spiky red hair or the heavy black eyeliner that circled her eyes. There was something about her demeanour. She was the only girl in the room to return Mariner’s gaze and some.

  There were three vacant seats. Mrs Darrow offered one each to Mariner and Millie, before making introductions and taking the other herself.

  As Mariner had agreed with her beforehand, Millie took the lead in the hope that the girls might be more relaxed talking to a woman nearer their age and therefore more inclined to open up. Mariner was pleased with the way she handled it, too: just the right proportion of friendly to professional.

  ‘Hi,’ she began. ‘We’re really glad that you agreed to meet with us today. If any of you has any idea where Yasmin might have gone, it’s really important that you tell us now. It goes without saying that everyone’s very concerned about her, and there’s a chance that she may be in danger.’ Silence. Time to be more specific. ‘Yasmin told her mum that she was going for a sleepover with Suzanne. Is that right?’ Millie scanned the room inviting a response from Suzanne.

  When none came, Mrs Darrow intervened quietly. ‘Suzanne?’

  ‘That’s right.’ The sullen reply came from the spiky-haired girl, who addressed her answer to Mariner, at the same time shifting in her seat and conspicuously adjusting her tiny skirt.

  ‘So what happened?’ Millie asked.

  ‘She changed her mind.’ Her green eyes remained disconcertingly fixed on Mariner’s, but Millie persevered.

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘She said she wasn’t feeling too well. And she felt bad about coming.’

  ‘What about the project?’

  Finally Suzanne turned to face Millie. ‘What project?’

  ‘The project you and Yasmin were working on, that you had to finish?’

  Suzanne frowned. ‘First I’ve heard of it.’

  ‘Okay. Why do you think Yasmin changed her mind about coming?’

  ‘Because of the row with her dad,’ she said with exaggerated patience.

  ‘What row was that?’

  ‘About the sleepover.’ Mariner could imagine her tapping the side of her head in despair. What kind of thicko was she dealing with here? ‘Her dad wouldn’t let her come.’

  Understandably Millie was puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. I thought she’d had her parents’ permission.’

  ‘Her mum’s,’ Suzanne corrected her. ‘Her dad had said absolutely no, but when Yaz found out he was going away, she talked her mum round. That’s the whole point. That’s why she changed her mind. She felt bad about going against her dad.’

  So the Akrams were in conflict about Yasmin’s sleepover with Suzanne. That explained a lot.

  ‘And the two of you hadn’t fallen out?’ Millie asked.

  ‘No. Yaz just succumbed to emotional blackmail, as she was expected to do.’ Suzanne’s voice was heavy with contempt.

  ‘And as far as you’re aware, Yasmin went straight home from school?’

  ‘Yes. She said it would keep.’

  ‘What would?’ Mariner asked. Suddenly he was interested and Suzanne knew it, in fact, Mariner realised, she’d played it with exactly that in mind.

  She fixed him with her gaze. ‘Yaz had something important to tell me, but she said she’d know more by the next day.’

  ‘More about what?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it was heavy. She was pretty wound up about it.’

  ‘Wound up how?’ asked Mariner. ‘Excited or worried?’

  Suzanne took her time. ‘I’d say excited.’

  ‘But she didn’t give any hints about what it was?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who travels home with Yasmin regularly?’ Millie asked. A couple of hands went up tentatively.
Mariner had forgotten what a programmed response that was. ‘Could you tell us about that journey, yesterday?’

  At last a shrug from the girl called Emma, with dark hair tied back and an uneven, lumpy complexion. ‘It was just the same as any other. We had graffiti club after school so we were late leaving.’

  ‘Graffiti club?’ said Millie.

  Mrs Darrow smiled. ‘We’re not encouraging vandalism, Constable. It’s just the trendy name for our art club.’ A couple of the girls smirked at her use of the word ‘trendy.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘About quarter to five,’ the girl whose frizzy hair was escaping from her ponytail spoke up. ‘We had to go back into school because Yaz couldn’t find her travel card. We had to retrace our steps, everywhere we’d been that day.’

  ‘And did you find it?’

  ‘It was on the floor in the art room. The last place we’d been. Typical.’

  ‘Go on, Emma,’ Millie encouraged.

  ‘It was the same as usual, said Emma. ‘We all walked down the road together. Some of us carried on along the main road to get the bus, while Yaz went down the side road towards the station for her train. We saw it coming in as she got there, so she had to run.’

  ‘Is Yasmin the only one to get the train?’

  Another girl spoke up as confidence began to grow. ‘Some other girls in the school do, but none of our crowd.’

  ‘At that time in the afternoon, most of the girls would have already gone,’ added Mrs Darrow. ‘The only ones left are those who stay for after-school activities. We’ve asked for anyone who might have seen Yasmin on the train to come forward, but they haven’t as yet. It’s quite possible that no one did.’

  ‘And no one else lives near Yasmin?’

  Shakes of the head, but that came as no surprise. They already knew that.

  ‘And Yasmin didn’t say anything about doing anything different or going anywhere yesterday evening? Could she have gone into the city, for example?’ asked Millie.

  ‘Suzanne?’ Mrs Darrow prompted.

  Suzanne merely shrugged and it was Emma who supplied the answer. ‘We had a piece of English homework that was going to be hard. Yaz was going to phone me later when she got home.’

  ‘And Yasmin was excited rather than worried about anything? Other than the disagreement about the sleepover, nothing recently had upset her?’ Mariner asked Suzanne directly.

  ‘She was pissed off with her parents, but what’s new?’ She glanced at Mrs Darrow to see if her language would be censured and was satisfied by a disapproving glare. Mariner could imagine Suzanne being pissed off with just about anyone. She behaved like a girl who was used to controlling adults for her own ends, and it was obvious why Yasmin’s parents didn’t want to encourage the friendship between their daughter and this girl. He wondered what it was that made her so angry. But then he remembered that most teenagers were like that at some point for no reason at all. He was just out of touch. ‘Yasmin’s old man doesn’t give her an inch. She’s always in trouble with him about something lately. He’s a psycho.’

  ‘Suzanne, that’s going too far!’ Mrs Darrow was looking not altogether happy about the way this was turning out.

  Shooting her a look that would fell an elephant at nine paces, Suzanne’s ‘what would you know?’ remained unspoken, but it reverberated around the room nonetheless. ‘Look at the fuss they made about her staying late for graffiti club.’ She quoted it as evidence, making Mariner wonder if this girl might have a career in law ahead of her.

  ‘They were unhappy about that?’ said Millie.

  ‘Her dad’s unhappy about anything that isn’t work: “go to school, go home, do your homework.” Yaz is expected to be a good little Asian girl.’

  ‘Does she resent that?’

  ‘Sure she does, but not enough to do anything about it. She’s not allowed to wear makeup, but instead of standing up to her parents she just puts it on while she’s on the train coming into school and washes it off afterwards. She just gives in to them all the time.’

  ‘She comes to graffiti club,’ Mariner pointed out.

  ‘Only because sir stuck up for her.’

  ‘Has anyone got anything else to add?’ asked Millie after a respectable pause. More shakes of the head.

  ‘Well, if there’s anything else you think of, we’ll be giving Mrs Darrow our contact number. And please remember, it’s vital that you tell us anything you know, however small or unimportant it may seem.’

  The head teacher nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll put the number on the common room bulletin board,’ she told the girls, and as there seemed to be nothing else forthcoming, she dismissed them back to their lessons.

  ‘I’m sorry that wasn’t more helpful,’ said Mrs Darrow, after they had gone. ‘And I would take Suzanne’s last comments with a pinch of salt. Some of the girls at this age do have this “whole world’s against me” mentality, usually with parents and school at the top of the list. Added to that, their imaginations are fuelled by the constant confrontations they see on TV soaps. Suzanne in particular can be something of a drama queen.’

  ‘Who runs this graffiti club?’ Mariner wanted to know.

  ‘The “sir” Suzanne mentioned: Mr Goodway. He’s the head of D & T.’

  Mariner turned to Millie for clarification. ‘Design and Technology,’ she obliged, with a sad shake of the head. ‘I expect it was plain old woodwork in your day.’

  ‘We could do with talking to him,’ Mariner said to Mrs Darrow. ‘It looks as if he may have been one of the last adults to see Yasmin yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘We can see if he’s free.’

  * * *

  Throughout the introductions Brian Goodway blinked rapidly at them through dense wire-framed glasses. Although school was in session, he had what Mrs Darrow referred to as a ‘non-contact’ period and they found him pottering about in the technology room, which Mariner discovered to be the home of wood and metalwork, textiles and art. Picking him out on the school photo, Mariner wouldn’t have attributed anything artistic to Brian Goodway. He was too tidy, more maths or geography, with his neatly knotted tie and one of those ubiquitous tweed jackets that had gone out of fashion years ago with everyone except a certain generation of teachers, although this one didn’t extend quite as far as leather elbow patches.

  The classroom was a different matter entirely; a chaotic arrangement of workbenches topped by the skeletal frames of half-finished sculptures and interspersed with spindly easels displaying adolescent creations in various stages of completion. Goodway himself seemed surprisingly unmarked by the explosion, several pairs of overalls hanging on the back of the door took the strain.

  Mariner’s eye was caught by a particularly ghoulish design, not unlike those on display in the entrance hall. ‘Body art,’ Goodway volunteered, seeing Mariner’s interest. ‘If you’re going to motivate the kids you have to operate on their level, tap into what’s relevant to them. The days of sketching a vase of flowers or bowls of fruit are over. That particular effort was drawn by a young lady in class 9G. She’s been working on it for three weeks now, mainly because of the problems she’s had with the proportions of the eagle’s head just here, getting those feathers to sit properly.’ He ran a finger along the offending area and Mariner had the impression that whichever of the creations he had picked on, Goodway would have been able to supply exactly the same amount of detail.

  Goodway showed them some still life drawings that Yasmin had been working on. One was a pencil drawing of a hand, the veins and skin texture perfect. ‘Yasmin is a very talented girl,’ he told them. ‘Art is a discipline like any other. Along with creativity you must have a precise eye.’ He smoothed his sparse sandy hair over his scalp and took his glasses off, peering through them at arm’s length before wiping them on a tissue. ‘Occupational hazard,’ he explained.

  ‘I understand that you fought Yasmin’s corner for her when her parents were reluctant to let her stay for the art club,
’ said Mariner.

  ‘It would have been a criminal waste if she hadn’t been given the opportunity to develop her talents. As it is she’s been persuaded to give up art in favour of more academic subjects at A level. Graffiti club means that she can pursue both.’

  ‘Would she make a living at it?’ Mariner asked, wondering if this was the conflict of interest with what her parents had in mind for her.

  Flattening his hair again, Goodway let out a sigh. ‘As a freelance artist? Not necessarily. Art is such a competitive world.’ He gestured towards a photograph of three teenage children — two boys and a girl — that was pinned to the wall above the corner desk. ‘That’s my daughter Chloe,’ he said. ‘She was gifted enough to get a place at the Slade Art College in London, but she still struggles to make a living as an artist. I try to ensure that the girls here have a realistic view of what they can achieve. Encourage them to get their academic qualifications too, looking at a more structured career within the art world, perhaps within graphic design or illustration.’

  ‘How did Yasmin seem at your class yesterday afternoon?’

  ‘Fine. The girls seem to like the club. It’s a chance to relax and shake off the shackles of prescribed coursework.’ A twinkle gleamed in his eye. Despite appearances maybe there was a rebellious streak in there after all.

  ‘She hadn’t fallen out with anyone?’

  Goodway shook his head. ‘You know what kids are like. Even if she had, I doubt that I would know. It may be a more relaxed class, but I don’t fool myself into thinking that any of the girls would share much with an old fogey like me.’

  Mariner wasn’t so sure. ‘Why do you think Yasmin’s parents weren’t keen on her staying for the graffiti club?’

  ‘They’re naturally very protective of her. The club runs throughout the year and in the winter months it can mean the girls getting home well after dark. Yasmin had a longer journey than most.’

  ‘What changed their minds?’

  Goodway shrugged as if it was no big deal. ‘I had a chat with them and they’re reasonable people.’

  Not what Suzanne seemed to be saying, but then the adult perspective would be a different one. ‘Thanks, Mr Goodway.’