Chapter 9

Alison almost gasped at the rudeness of the remark. She sat down in the chair opposite Miss Harding's desk and leant her chin on her hands. "She is a colleague and a friend. If she is ill I would like to know."

Miss Harding gave an exaggerated sigh. "I am afraid I am unable to divulge that information."

Alison stared back at her, unbelieving. "You are unable to divulge that information? Why, for goodness' sake? What do you think I'm going to do with it?"

Miss Harding shifted slightly in her seat, a dull blush creeping up her neck. "I am unable to divulge that information because I don't know,"she said.

Alison's eyes widened with surprise. "But surely she must have telephoned."

Miss Harding shook her head. "As far as I know there has been no contact."

"But hasn't anyone gone round to her house to see if she's all right? She lives alone. She could have collapsed or fallen down the stairs. She could be dying of food poisoning -"Alison broke off, unable for the moment to think of any other possible fates Miss Blacker may have suffered.

Miss Harding shook her head again and stood up, a clear invitation for Alison to do the same. She ignored it.

"So you're saying a valued and so far impeccably reliable member of staff fails to return after the holiday and nobody does anything about it? Has anyone even tried to call her?"

Blushing furiously, and looking mulishly defensive, Miss Harding refused to meet Alison's eye. "As far as I know there has been no contact. If you wish to pursue this I suggest you speak to Mr Wesley."And she actually turned her back on Alison and began fussing with the files in the cabinet.

"Oh, I shall."Alison got up and swept grandly out of the room. She stopped at the door and looked back. "Oh, and by the way, there's no apostrophe in your sign."

Miss Harding spun round again. "What?"

"Your sign - Secretary's Office - there's no apostrophe."

"Miss Harding stared at the door. "Does it matter?"she said wearily.

"I would have thought it DID matter,"Alison said sententiously. "After all, this IS a school."

And she marched down the corridor feeling immensely pleased with herself.

Mr Wesley, aka the Weasel, had an office at the opposite end of the corridor. The notice on the door simply said 'HEADMASTER'. No points to be scored there then. She knocked briskly.

"Come in."The Weasel had a high nasal voice, exactly appropriate for a weasel. He even looked like a weasel with his long, narrow head and long, thin, pink-tipped nose.

"Yes? What can I do for you, Miss -er?"

"Metcalfe,"said Alison. "I was wondering about Miss Blacker. How is she?"

The Weasel raised his eyebrows in a patronising manner. "I don't see how that is any concern of yours."

"She is a friend and colleague,"said Alison patiently, aware she would have to go through the whole rigmarole again, "and I am concerned that she hasn't come in to work."

"Well, I can't help you there,"Mr Wesley stood up and spread his hands on the desk. "Miss Blacker has not seen fit to inform us of the reason for her absence."

Alison felt rage brimming up inside her but fought it down and went on sweetly. "That's not very like her, is it? Has she ever done this before?"

Mr Wesley glared at her. "Miss - er -"

"Metcalfe."

"Er - yes. I fail to see why you feel so concerned."

"Because she doesn't do that. She never has time off. She always lets you know if there's a problem. She doesn't ..."To her horror, Alison felt tears welling up in her eyes. She took a deep breath. "I just want to know if anyone has tried to contact her."

"Well, naturally,"Mr Wesley looked down his long nose at Alison as if she were something mildly interesting that had just crawled out from under a stone. "We telephoned her home."

"And?"

"And there was no reply."

Alison's hand flew up to her mouth.

"My God! I knew something had happened to her. Have you been round to her house?"

"Miss - er - this is a school, not a care home. We can't go chasing after members of staff who lack the manners to inform us of their absence."

Alison stood up, cheeks flaming. "For goodness' sake! This is completely out of character. Stop talking about her as if she's playing truant. It's obvious something is seriously wrong. If you can't be bothered to send someone round, give me her address and I'll go."She felt her hands clenching into fists and pressed them hard against her sides, glaring back at Mr Wesley, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I don't think that would be appropriate,"said the Weasel, turning away from her and consulting a large chart on the wall. "You can rest assured the school will take the necessary action."

Alison bit her lip and turned to go. She was afraid to speak for fear of bursting into tears.

Sanctimonious prig! She hoped he fell down the stairs and nobody discovered his body till three weeks later when it began to smell.

~ * ~

She just had time to grab a sandwich before the afternoon lessons. Nothing could be done until school finished at four. Damn.

From time to time during the afternoon she thought about Miss Blacker. The problem tugged at her mind at unexpected moments and she felt as if she couldn't possibly concentrate and the day would be never-ending. But when the four o' clock bell finally came it took her by surprise. She had become so engrossed in teaching she had actually succeeded in forgetting all about it. Now the anxiety came roaring back. She felt as if time was of the essence. It was imperative she find Miss Blacker and make sure she was all right before something dreadful and irrevocable happened.

She handed out homework assignments to the class, gathered up her books for marking, stuffed them in her briefcase and left the room, heading at a dangerous pace for the staff room.