‘About his job, maybe? He obviously values his position. He’s clung on to it long enough.’

‘I might have bought that twenty-two years ago,’ said Fleet. ‘Right after Ben went missing, and when Harris was relatively new to his role. But he’s close to retirement age. He must know he’ll be stepping down soon anyway.’

‘Unless he’s in denial. Or maybe he’s not trying to protect his position any more. Maybe now it’s about his legacy. He doesn’t want to be remembered as the man who was at the helm when the good ship Beaconsfield ran into the iceberg.’

Fleet bobbed his head, not entirely convinced. They walked on, towards the arch at the far end of the courtyard that led under the southern wing of the main building. As they passed from the courtyard and into the tunnel, they saw the chapel further down the slope, the spire perfectly framed by the stone archway. The hockey pitch was empty this time, as indeed were the rest of the grounds on this side of the main building, all the way to the first line of trees. Fleet didn’t know whether the students had been told to stay away from the woods and the area around them, or whether they’d opted to do so voluntarily. Either way, the entire school felt eerily quiet. Even in the quad, where pupils had been crossing back and forth, there’d been no laughter, no fooling around, none of the banter Fleet would have expected, even at a school like Beaconsfield.

‘Poor kids,’ said Nicky, nodding her head to indicate the pupils they’d passed in the courtyard. ‘I bet this place feels more like a prison now than ever.’

Fleet glanced Nicky’s way, remembering something about her that he’d forgotten. ‘Didn’t you go to a boarding school yourself?’

‘Yep. For five whole years. A place called Welton House. It was nothing like Beaconsfield, but even still …’

‘You mean prison is what it felt like to you?’

‘Prison is putting it mildly,’ said Nicky. ‘Boarding school scarred me for life. You can ask my therapist.’

Fleet had assumed Nicky was making a joke, but when he turned again she’d stopped walking, and was gazing up at the building that was now behind them.

‘The worst thing is being sent away from home,’ she said. ‘I don’t think when you’re young you can ever really understand it. My dad actually apologised to me once, soon after he and Mum got divorced. She’s never said sorry – which is probably why I’ve never forgiven her, for boarding school or anything else.’