‘Just after the secretary came out, the fire got worse. There was a huge bang, and flames, and smoke was pouring out of the windows.’
‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘No.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. I’ve been trying to remember but I really don’t think I saw anyone else. But there easily could have been other people there. I mean, it’s a big building.’
Sarah hasn’t drunk her tea, concentrating every ounce of attention on Maisie, while not letting her feel it.
‘And then?’
‘A few minutes later, I think it was that, I saw Gracie running towards the school, I think she was screaming, but the fire alarm was so loud I can’t be sure.’
She pauses a moment, as if she’s watching me running full tilt towards the school.
‘I knew she’d be so relieved when she saw Adam, and she was, and I thought that everything was alright. But then she was yelling for Jenny, over and over, and I realised that Jenny must be inside. And Gracie ran in.’
I see the pressure of tears building behind Maisie’s face. She presses her fingerpads, hard, against the skin on her temple as if it’ll force the tears to stay inside.
Sarah is looking at her intently now.
‘Did you know that Adam has been accused of starting the fire?’ she asks.
Maisie is astonished. Is that why Sarah told her – in order to gauge her response? She must clearly see now that Maisie’s astonishment is genuine.
‘Oh God, that poor family.’
Tears break free and stream down her face. ‘Sorry, selfish. I’ve no right to cry, have I, not when Gracie and Jenny…’
Sarah picks up Maisie’s cup. ‘I’ll get you another?’
‘Thank you.’
And this small act of kindness again seems to relax Maisie a little.
‘What do you know about Silas Hyman?’ Sarah asks as she goes to the drinks machine.
‘He’s dangerous,’ Maisie says immediately. ‘Violent. But you’d never guess that. I mean, that he’s a sham. And he gets people to love him. Young people. Exploits their feelings for him.’
I am taken aback by her vehemence, and how sure she is about him. How does she know?
‘In what way is he a sham?’ Sarah asks.
‘I thought he was kind, really caring,’ Maisie says. ‘Wonderful, actually. When I read with the little children, I take one at a time out of their classroom up to the first floor where they have the lower school reading books, and we sit on the rug together.’
Maisie is talking to her across the shadowy expanse, as if it’s a relief to talk about it, her words tumbling out.
‘Mr Hyman taught in the other classroom on that floor. You’d hear his class laughing. And there was music too. He was always playing them something. I worked it out in the end. It was Mozart for Maths and jazz for getting changed for sport because it speeded them up. I once heard him telling off Robert Fleming but he didn’t shout at him. He didn’t need to shut the classroom door like some of the teachers in case parents overheard. And he had special names for them all. His whole focus in the school seemed to be the children. Not getting ahead in his career, or making sure there was impressive work up on the walls for parents to see. Just the children, inspiring them and making them happy. So you can see why he had me fooled, can’t you? I mean, I think he fooled all of us.’
Sarah joins her with two new cups of tea. In all the time I’ve known her, Sarah has never drunk tea, only coffee, and it has to be real not instant. Maybe her police persona drinks tea because despite telling Maisie she was talking to her as a member of our family, it’s the professional Sarah I’m watching.
‘When did you realise you’d been fooled?’ Sarah asks.
Maisie takes the tea and fusses with a little pink packet of fake sugar before she answers.
‘At the school prize-giving. We give a prize, you see, every year. For Science. Rowena’s going to read Science at Oxford, St Hilda’s. Sorry. I mean, that’s why we were there.’ She pauses for a moment, as if thinking back. ‘He barged in, looking so angry, and then he swore at the headmistress. Threatened all of us.
‘But no one else took it seriously. I mean, they just found him embarrassing rather than threatening.’
‘But you took him seriously?’
‘Yes.’
At the prize-giving Donald was sitting pressed up next to her. Maisie knows first-hand that threats of violence can translate into the real thing. Or perhaps Donald doesn’t give a warning first.
‘Did you tell anyone your anxieties about him?’ Sarah asks.
‘Yes. I phoned Sally Healey, the head teacher, later that evening and told her she should get the police to make sure he wasn’t allowed near the school again. A restraining order, I think it’s called? I’m not sure. Something that meant he wasn’t allowed near the children.’
‘Did she?’
Maisie shook her head and I saw the upset on her face.
‘You said he gets young people to love him,’ Sarah continues. ‘And exploits their feelings?’
But Maisie seems to have clammed up now, lost in her own thoughts.
‘Maisie?’ Sarah asks, but still Maisie is silent.
Sarah waits patiently, giving Maisie time.
‘Grace told me that Addie adored him,’ Maisie says eventually. ‘But I didn’t realise how much till the prize-giving.’
‘What happened?’
‘Has no one told you?’
‘No.’
You hadn’t said anything to Sarah and I wasn’t close enough to her to risk this touchy subject.
‘Addie stood up and defended Silas Hyman,’ Maisie says. ‘Told everyone that he shouldn’t have been fired.’
‘That was brave,’ Sarah says.
I should have risked telling her.
‘But it’s wrong to make someone adore you,’ Maisie says, emotion shaking her voice. ‘When they’re so much younger and can’t properly think for themselves. That’s exploitation. Wicked. And you can make them do what you want.’
Her anger is both startling and touching. I know what she’s suggesting and so does Sarah. But no one could have made Addie light a fire.
I don’t blame Maisie for thinking Adam easily manipulated. He’s always been shy with adults, even Maisie. And after the prize-giving he’d looked so cowed, flinching from Donald’s lighter.
‘I should get back to my daughter,’ Maisie says. ‘I told her I wouldn’t be long.’
‘Of course,’ Sarah says, standing up. ‘One of my colleagues spoke to a firefighter at the scene. He told me of her bravery.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d like to speak to her, if that would be alright? Just to get it all straight for myself.’
‘She’s upset at the moment,’ Maisie says, looking fearful. ‘In a bit of a state. I mean, that’s understandable, isn’t it, after everything that’s happened. So would you mind waiting?’
Is she afraid Rowena will tell Sarah about Donald?
‘Not at all,’ Sarah replies. ‘And you’ve been very kind to spare some of your time. I’ll pop by tomorrow. See if she’s feeling up to talking to me then.’
‘I haven’t told her yet,’ Maisie says. ‘How badly hurt they both are.’
‘I understand.’
Maisie leaves and Sarah scrupulously writes up notes in the owl-covered notebook.
‘So get her to give a new statement right now,’ you say vehemently.
Sarah has joined you at Jenny’s bedside.
‘Tell Baker that someone else knew that he was violent,’ you continue. ‘Christ, if Maisie thinks that about him, other people will too.’
‘At the moment there’s no point,’ Sarah says patiently. ‘Not unless and until his alibi is broken. And I also need to pursue other avenues at the same time.’
She makes you go for a sleep, while she takes your place at Jenny’s bedside.
And I return to the garden where Jenny is waiting.