If anything the inspectors were always taken aback by how staid it was, its interior more reflective of a pensioner’s home than a man of forty-seven. The house was filled with decrepit dark wood furniture and fussy ornaments that Alan had taken possession of when his dad went into the nursing home and the front room was pretty much a replica of the one he’d grown up in. But as he’d taken nothing from the house he had shared with his now ex-wife and their three children, he couldn’t afford to be picky and he certainly couldn’t afford new furnishings on top of paying maintenance for the kids.

After a quick shower, Alan changed into the one smart shirt he owned and a pair of old suit trousers that he struggled to fasten because a few years had passed and a couple of stone been added on since he’d last worn them.

The shirt was soaked with sweat within five minutes of him leaving the house, even though he was keeping to the shadiest side of the road. The back way into town, along alleyways and down side streets, would’ve been cooler but Alan wasn’t confident enough of the route, even though he’d been living in Mansell for almost three years now. He didn’t venture into town much – apart from a nightly pint in his local and shopping at the nearby Co-op, he spent all his time at Rushbrooke.

He was halfway to the police station when his phone rang. He wasn’t surprised by who was calling, just that it had taken him this long. Alan had half expected to see him up at the school but knew exactly why he’d stayed away.

The Pavilion.

‘Alan?’

‘Hi, Gus.’

‘How are you doing?’

He sounded genuinely concerned and Alan was taken aback. He’d been expecting Gus to be angry with him, as though it was his fault the police were crawling all over the school.

‘I’m okay.’

‘Horrible business with the kid.’

‘Yeah, it is.’ An image flashed before Alan’s eyes and he shuddered. He’d never seen so much blood before.

‘I’ve got to say I’m concerned though, with the police involved. Alan, I need you to sort it out for us.’

‘What?’

‘Well, I can’t do it, can I? No one’s going to listen to what I say because I wasn’t there. But you, you witnessed it. You’re on the inside.’

‘But it’s the police,’ said Alan, cupping his hand over his mouth and phone to buffer the sound of traffic rumbling past.

‘You need to make this thing go away, Alan,’ Gus implored. ‘Make them go away.’

‘I can’t tell the police what to do,’ said Alan fearfully.

The tone of Gus’s voice changed abruptly.