so she would add up or multiply things in her head quicker than some of the other girls could do it with a calculator.”
“That’s one good way to make enemies.” Banks remembered hisown school maths reports: Could do better than this; Harder work needed; Watch that arithmetic!
“It was hardly serious,” Dr Green went on, shrugging. “Simply a matter of girlish exuberance, a young woman taking full joy in her talents.” Her eyes sparkled for a moment. “Have you forgotten what it was like to be young, to be popular, gifted?”
“I don’t know that I was ever gifted or popular,” Banks said, with a sidelong glance at Susan, who was smiling down into her notebook. “But I do remember what it was like to be young. I thought I would live forever.”
After the awkward silence that followed, Banks asked, “Was Deborah popular with the other girls?”
“What do you mean?”
“She sounds like a right little madam to me, a proper pain in the neck. I was wondering how she got on with her classmates.”
“Really, Chief Inspector,” Dr Green said through tight lips. “These were very minor faults I’m talking about. Mostly, Deborah was friendly, cheerful and helpful.”
“Was there any friend in particular?”
“Yes. Megan Preece. Her name’s on the list I gave you.”
“I understand from Daniel Charters,” Banks went on, “that there was some trouble with Ive Jela č i ć , the sexton.”
“Yes.” Julia Green rubbed her cheek. “He’d been bothering the girls. Saying things, making lewd gestures, that sort of thing.”
“Had Deborah, in particular, complained about him?” “I believe she had.”
“Did she continue going to the church after Mr Jela Ȉ
ci ć made his accusations against Daniel Charters? It was my impression that her father seemed more upset about what Charters had been accused of, rather than what Jela č i ć did .”
Julia Green paused for a moment, then said. “Yes, yes he was. I don’t understand it myself. The school stands one hundred per cent behind Father Charters, but Sir Geoffrey forbade Deborah from singing with the choir or attending any services.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
“I don’t know. Some people are just … well, very funny about any hint of homosexuality in the ministry.”
“Did Deborah obey him?”
“As far as I know she did. I never saw her there, anyway.”
“Did Deborah keep any of her belongings here at school?”
“All the girls have desks.”
“No lockers or anything?”
She shook her head. “Not the day-girls. They bring what they need from day to day, mostly.”
“Might we have a look?”
“Of course. We’ve cancelled classes for the day, so the room should be empty.”
She led them through a maze of high corridors to a small room. It wasn’t like any classroom Banks had even seen before, with its well-polished woodwork and nicely spaced desks.
“This one,” said Dr Green, pointing to a desk.
Banks lifted the hinged flap. He hadn’t expected much—school desks are hardly the most private of places—but he was disappointed by how little there was: a couple of school exercise books, a computer magazine, textbooks, pens and pencils. There was also a tattered paperback Jeffrey Archer. Deborah’s intelligence obviously hadn’t stretched as far as her literary taste.
Under the flap, Deborah had taped a photograph of a scruffy pop star Banks didn’t recognize.
Dr Green saw it and said, with a smile, “We discourage such things, but what can you do?”
Banks nodded. Then he examined the desk surface to see if Deborah had carved any initials, the way he had at school. Again, nothing. Strongly discouraged, no doubt.
“Thanks,” he said to Dr Green. “Can we have a word with Megan Preece now? Is she here?”
Dr Green nodded. After stopping back at her office for their raincoats and her umbrella, she led them outside.
“Where are we going?” Banks asked.
“The school infirmary. That’s where
“That’s one good way to make enemies.” Banks remembered hisown school maths reports: Could do better than this; Harder work needed; Watch that arithmetic!
“It was hardly serious,” Dr Green went on, shrugging. “Simply a matter of girlish exuberance, a young woman taking full joy in her talents.” Her eyes sparkled for a moment. “Have you forgotten what it was like to be young, to be popular, gifted?”
“I don’t know that I was ever gifted or popular,” Banks said, with a sidelong glance at Susan, who was smiling down into her notebook. “But I do remember what it was like to be young. I thought I would live forever.”
After the awkward silence that followed, Banks asked, “Was Deborah popular with the other girls?”
“What do you mean?”
“She sounds like a right little madam to me, a proper pain in the neck. I was wondering how she got on with her classmates.”
“Really, Chief Inspector,” Dr Green said through tight lips. “These were very minor faults I’m talking about. Mostly, Deborah was friendly, cheerful and helpful.”
“Was there any friend in particular?”
“Yes. Megan Preece. Her name’s on the list I gave you.”
“I understand from Daniel Charters,” Banks went on, “that there was some trouble with Ive Jela č i ć , the sexton.”
“Yes.” Julia Green rubbed her cheek. “He’d been bothering the girls. Saying things, making lewd gestures, that sort of thing.”
“Had Deborah, in particular, complained about him?” “I believe she had.”
“Did she continue going to the church after Mr Jela Ȉ
ci ć made his accusations against Daniel Charters? It was my impression that her father seemed more upset about what Charters had been accused of, rather than what Jela č i ć did .”
Julia Green paused for a moment, then said. “Yes, yes he was. I don’t understand it myself. The school stands one hundred per cent behind Father Charters, but Sir Geoffrey forbade Deborah from singing with the choir or attending any services.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
“I don’t know. Some people are just … well, very funny about any hint of homosexuality in the ministry.”
“Did Deborah obey him?”
“As far as I know she did. I never saw her there, anyway.”
“Did Deborah keep any of her belongings here at school?”
“All the girls have desks.”
“No lockers or anything?”
She shook her head. “Not the day-girls. They bring what they need from day to day, mostly.”
“Might we have a look?”
“Of course. We’ve cancelled classes for the day, so the room should be empty.”
She led them through a maze of high corridors to a small room. It wasn’t like any classroom Banks had even seen before, with its well-polished woodwork and nicely spaced desks.
“This one,” said Dr Green, pointing to a desk.
Banks lifted the hinged flap. He hadn’t expected much—school desks are hardly the most private of places—but he was disappointed by how little there was: a couple of school exercise books, a computer magazine, textbooks, pens and pencils. There was also a tattered paperback Jeffrey Archer. Deborah’s intelligence obviously hadn’t stretched as far as her literary taste.
Under the flap, Deborah had taped a photograph of a scruffy pop star Banks didn’t recognize.
Dr Green saw it and said, with a smile, “We discourage such things, but what can you do?”
Banks nodded. Then he examined the desk surface to see if Deborah had carved any initials, the way he had at school. Again, nothing. Strongly discouraged, no doubt.
“Thanks,” he said to Dr Green. “Can we have a word with Megan Preece now? Is she here?”
Dr Green nodded. After stopping back at her office for their raincoats and her umbrella, she led them outside.
“Where are we going?” Banks asked.
“The school infirmary. That’s where
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