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False Witness

Michelle Davies
Chapters (100)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. Acknowledgements
  97. DEAD GUILTY
  98. 1
  99. FALSE WITNESS
  100. Also by Michelle Davies

Cover

cover

Title page

FALSE WITNESS

Michelle Davies

PAN BOOKS

Dedication page

To Granddad,
for being right about everything

1

Tuesday

Alan Donnelly’s first thought on spotting the children on the ladder was to wonder whether it constituted a sacking offence under the terms of his contract.

His second was that he’d strangle the little sods when he got his hands on them.

One of them was already at the ladder’s brow, the other not far behind. He couldn’t see their faces clearly from that distance, but the girl in the lead had long blonde hair worn loose and wavy and was in a red gingham dress. From the size of her she looked as though she might be in Year 5, possibly 6. The boy in her wake had cropped dark hair and was wearing smart grey shorts and a white polo top. He looked physically younger, a skinny little runt.

Alan threw down his shovel on the soil he’d been using to fill in the cracks in the turf. It was Sports Day next week and the playing field was uneven underfoot, a potential safety hazard for egg-and-spoon and sack race competitors according to the head. Smacking his palms together to clean them, Alan set off across the grass towards the playground, angry at being pulled away from an important task to sort out misbehavers.

He’d warned Mrs Pullman something like this would happen if they didn’t delay building work until the holidays started. During a tetchy meeting with her and the governors to discuss the plans, he’d likened cordoning off the playground while the kids were still at school to waving a bottle of vodka under the nose of an alcoholic. Far too tempting. They hadn’t taken kindly to his metaphor and decided it would be far worse if they waited until the summer holidays and the work overran and the classes weren’t finished for the new intake come September. Prepare for an early June start, he was told in no uncertain terms.

Yet here they were three weeks into the project and he was already being proved right. There wasn’t time to be smug, though, because unless he got those kids down off that ladder before anyone else saw them he’d be right in the shit. It wouldn’t matter how they’d broken into the school or got onto the building site, it was the fact that they had, and security was his responsibility as caretaker.

There were three new classrooms being built, in a single-storey, L-shaped annexe. An outer wall of the first one was already completed – about seven metres high, it was what the children were standing on now. They appeared to be alone, no sign of any others egging them on. He checked his watch quickly. It was ten past seven – he had about twenty minutes before the first members of staff would start arriving.