Death of a Teacher by Lis Howell

Ro arrived at his home, though she reminded herself that he’d had a few hours already to absorb the news. Like most people in Pelliter that morning, he had both the TV and radio on, but in the Findleys’ house they were at very low volume.
    ‘My wife had a breakdown earlier this year,’ the head teacher said. ‘I need to keep anything that could be upsetting away from her. She worked with Brenda Hodgson for quite a few years.’
    ‘And you did, too. You must both be very upset.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Ray Findley looked surprised that anyone should consider his feelings. ‘But I must admit that I wasn’t close to Brenda. She was a very capable teacher and there were very few problems with her classes. She just got on with it. Do you have any idea yet who could have done this terrible thing?’
    ‘It’s early days, Mr Findley. And I’m a PCSO so I’m not involved with solving crime. I’m here to ask what you want to do about your school.’
    Sometimes people could bridle when PCSOs tried to help, but Ray Findley just looked at her blankly. Ro went on, ‘Our advice is not to do anything dramatic yet. Maybe you could close for a half day or something like that, in her memory, later on.’
    Ray Findley nodded. He still stared a little glassily at Ro, but she could see that he was beginning to think beyond the walls of his own home and his own problems.
    ‘Maybe you could get the children together and tell them about Miss Hodgson first thing in the morning. We have a form of words you may like to use. Her own class might need counselling. We can help you with that. And you’ll need someone to teach them.’
    ‘I’ll speak to Mrs Rudder about all this. I might have to stay at home with my wife.’
    ‘But it’s your school, Mr Findley. You need to be in control. Look, this is a massive press story too. Journalists will be sniffing around everywhere. There are already TV and radio reporters at the Marshes. I used to work in public relations. I know they’ll be all over you like a rash. You need think about what you want to do.’
    Ray Findley nodded slowly.
    ‘They’ll want you to say something about Miss Hodgson. I’m sure you have protocols about talking to the press, but I doubt the Local Education Authority will be up to speed on this one on a Sunday morning. You need to make sure your staff members aren’t talking to all and sundry, too. There needs to be some leadership. You’re the head teacher.’
    ‘Yes, that’s quite true.’ A woman’s voice came from behind her. Ro turned to see Sheila Findley standing in the doorway. She was a tall, thin, dark-haired woman. She might once have been slender, but now she was haggard, with a long pale face and heavy shadows under her eyes. She said, ‘Ray, you can’t leave this to Liz Rudder. And you need to contact the Education Authority. The policewoman’s right.’
    I’m not a policewoman, Ro thought, but I am right. She turned back to look at the head teacher. He was staring at his wife. ‘Sheila … are you all right?’
    ‘Yes, I am. Which is more than you can say for poor Brenda Hodgson. It sounds truly awful.’ Sheila Findley pulled up another chair and joined them at the kitchen table. ‘You need to take charge, Ray. As the lady pointed out, it’s your school.’
     
    Callie McFadden was usually woken on Sundays by the kids screaming or someone banging on her bedroom door wanting something. But this time the house was silent when she finally drifted out of sleep. Her mouth was dry and her head ached.
    Then she heard the rumble that meant the telly was on in the front room downstairs. But instead of the usual shouts and arguments, there was quiet.
    Callie padded down the stairs. Unusually, the living-room door was shut. She pushed it open. She could tell at once that something had happened. Her daughter was in her nightdress, with a can of lager in her hand, and her boyfriend was there too. They were both transfixed by the screen. There