Alan knew how to get through it unscathed. He walked to the far-left corner and squeezed down the side of a large blackthorn bush. Once through, he followed a well-worn path, ducking beneath a couple of low-lying branches, until he hit a small clearing bordered by a wooden fence. It was the only part of the boundary that didn’t have new houses on the other side.

One of the fence panels could be pulled loose and swung open to reveal a sizeable gap. Depending on which direction you were coming from, it was either a hidden entrance into the school or a stealth exit to a dirt track where cars could be parked without being seen from the main road.

Alan was tempted to fetch his toolbox and nail it up so it couldn’t be used again. But it would be a waste of time – Gus would just badger him to create another opening somewhere else along the fence. Gus could do that, because of who he was.

The moment they’d been introduced Alan had known Gus was going to cause trouble for him.

He just hadn’t realized how much.

He retraced his steps until he was back on the edge of the playing field and a few metres from the back door of the Pavilion, which was accessed up some rickety wooden steps. The front of the structure had a porch running its entire length that was visible from the school, so Gus had insisted only the back door was used.

The stretch of grass leading up to the rear of the Pavilion was flattened, despite Alan’s best and repeated attempts to make it look otherwise.

But it wasn’t him treading a regular path there, and it only happened during night-time hours, long after the kids and teachers had gone home and the school was locked up. The footfall belonged to the women who worked for Gus – and the eager punters lining up to have sex with them.

16

Maggie was draining the glass of orange juice that constituted her breakfast when Imogen rang. She was surprised at the earliness of the call – it wasn’t even seven thirty yet. But clearly what Imogen had to tell her couldn’t wait until later: she was in such a rush to get her words out that Maggie had trouble understanding her.

‘Sorry, can you repeat that?’ she asked, putting the glass in the sink alongside last night’s dirty crockery.

Imogen slowed her voice.

‘I said, one of the mums from school messaged me overnight to say did I know that Benji and Poppy had a big fight at school last week,’ said Imogen breathlessly. ‘I didn’t: he never mentioned it to me and neither did his teacher, although it sounds like she might not have known about it.’

Maggie dashed into the lounge to grab her notebook and flipped it open to make notes as Imogen continued.