Page 8 of The Serial Killer's Sister
He closes his eyes. I want to sigh, or shout at him.Get on with it, man!And then he swings the monitor screen around so I can see it. A fluttering inside my stomach grows rapidly into a violent beating of wings as I recognise what’s on the screen. The image is paused, and in a particularly unflattering moment as the woman’s mouth is wide open in mid-yell – teeth bared like an animal on the attack. Her hands are poised and look as if they are about to land on the small, terrified child’s shoulders. I gasp. The woman on the zebra crossing looks manic, deranged, almost unrecognisable. Almost.
‘If I hadn’t seen this footage with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it for a single second. But, Anna, it’s here. In black and white.’
‘Footage?’ I gulp down my unease. Bad enough to think this was a photo – but if there’s more …
‘Yes. I think you should watch it. Seeing as so many others have already.’
My heart pounds as he elaborates; his words flow into each other and blur. But I get the gist. This piece of footage first found its way onto the parents’ WhatsApp group before being shared on Spotted Staverton’s Facebook page, and he’s had call after call from concerned mums and dads. He hits the play button and I watch in muted disbelief as the woman who looks like me leaps from the car that is identical to mine and lunges towards the scared girl. I’m stunned at how angry this person is. My mind tries to reconcile the features of the woman I see on the screen with myself. It’s not me. Yet, of course, I know it is.
‘Oh, my God,’ I say, shaking my head. The video footage stops abruptly and I look to Mr Beaumont. ‘Where’s the rest? This isn’t all of what happened.’
‘This is all that was uploaded. There is no more.’
‘Well, it’s making it out to be worse, Mr Beaumont. I mean, look!’ I rush around to his side of the desk and play the last few seconds back. Just before the video cuts off, I’ve got my hand raised as if I’m about to strike her. ‘I do not hit her. Idid nothit Isobel. This makes it look as though I’m about to attack her.’
‘Yes. That’s exactly how it appears, Anna. So, you can see why so many parents have demanded I do something about this.’
‘What?’ The single word is barely audible, spoken in astonishment. Fear.Do something about this?The words ricochet off the inside of my skull and my blood runs icy cold inside my veins. If I leave the office now, go back to my classroom, carry on as though nothing has happened, I wonder if this whole incident would somehow erase itself. But the weight of what’s to come is already heavy in the room – Beaumont’s expression foreshadows it.
‘I’m going to have to ask you to take leave, Anna.’ And there it is. A tingle begins at the back of my nose and I know tears aren’t far behind. I hang my head. ‘For a week at least,’ he says. ‘Until I can gather the relevant information for a full misconduct case review.’
My head snaps up. ‘Who recorded it?’
‘That’sall you have to say?’ He gives a disbelieving sigh together with a shake of his head.
‘I have the right to know.’ I’m barely holding it together, my frustration leaking from my clipped words – any moment now I’ll lose the ability to keep my anger harnessed.
‘It was posted anonymously.’
‘Of course. I don’t even get to know who the hell is trying to ruin my career.’ Maintaining composure is something I’m usually good at, and until today I’ve not uttered a single contemptuous word while in my teaching role. Certainly, I’ve not given Mr Beaumont cause to question my standards or my integrity before. Now both are under fire.
‘You have to realise how this looks, Anna? You’re a senior teacher at a highly respected private school. And there’s evidence of appalling behaviour. Based on this footage, the parents of the pupil in question have every right to take legal action …’
Legal action. The words instil a sense of despair and blood rushes to my head, making my face burn. ‘I didn’t touch her, Mr Beaumont,’ I say, firmly without shouting. ‘You have to believe me. There were witnesses. Not one of them will say I laid a finger on her.’
‘A parent has come forward, actually, Anna.’
‘Good, good.’ Relief washes over me. ‘So you’ll know this is being blown out of all proportion.’
‘The parent saw your hands on her shoulders.’
‘Well, yes. I laid my hands on her to reassure her, Craig. I wanted to make sure she was OK.’
‘Mr Beaumont, Anna. Let’s keep it professional.’
A surge of hot anger rises inside my stomach and it’s all I can do not to explode. But that would play into his hands. And those of whoever has started this. I can’t let that happen.
‘Fine. Have it your way,Mr Beaumont. Thanks for the vote of confidence. I assume you’ve got cover for my class.’
‘Yes, Serena will step in. She is more than capable of taking two classes for today until I organise someone to cover your period of suspension.’
I nod, lost for words as the phrase ‘period of suspension’ rings in my head. A few hours ago, everything was ticking along as usual. My only concern was an Ofsted report. Now, I have to worry about a serial killer who might be targeting me, a potential assault charge, and losing my job. With my eyes to the ground, I walk briskly back to the classroom, grab my bag and leave without uttering a word to the class, or Serena.
Tears don’t even come as I sit behind the wheel of my car and replay the events that have occurred this morning. I’m numb, like I’ve been immersed in a bath of ice. How the hell do I fight this?
Chapter 5
Suddenly, I’m back at home, the car in its usual position in the road directly outside the house. I have zero memory of the journey – not even driving across the bridge into Shaldon, where I usually slow right down to glimpse the boats on the glistening water. It’s all just one big blur. Worrying, when I consider what else I could’ve done while my mind wasn’t focused on the road. Isobel’s face, frozen in panic, flashes in my mind as I sit with my forehead against the steering wheel. How could I have let myself get so angry at a child?
