‘Oh, really? I was under the impression Miss Emery was sick. You said on Friday that you were a supply teacher who happened to be here in time to take her class; I didn’t realise you knew her.’

‘Sorry, I’ve spoken out of turn. I’ve been a supply for Stockwood a number of times and, well … staffroom chat …’

‘Gossip, you mean? Perhaps you shouldn’t be repeating it to a parent?’

‘As I say, I’m sorry. I was trying to put your mind at ease about Leo. I shouldn’t have brought Miss Emery’s private life into it.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. But, now that you have, what did you mean?’

Mr Welland begins to walk away without answering. I go after him.

‘She was acting very strangely the other afternoon,’ I say, ‘asking me about …’ I don’t want to be specific, I’m not sure I should tell this man about Carl. I pause while trying to think up something relevant. Mr Welland turns back to face me.

‘Sorry. I’ve already said too much. Probably best to wait for Miss Emery’s return to work and speak with her yourself.’

He disappears back into the school.

‘What was Miss Emery asking?’ A voice behind me gives me a start. There’d been no one around when I looked a minute ago. I turn to face the woman. It’s Callum’s mum, Yolande. I’ve never spoken to her – she’s in a different clique. One I’ve never been able to, nor wanted to, penetrate.

I can’t think of anything to say off the top of my head. Oh well, in for a penny … ‘Miss Emery asked me who my estate agent was. And when I told her, she had a really odd reaction,’ I say.

Yolande frowns, hard lines cutting across her forehead. She obviously frowns a lot.

‘Who’s your estate agent, Amber?’ Her face darkens. Mine must too. What is going on here?

I swallow hard. ‘Carl Anderson, of Move Horizon.’

I await a similar response from her to the one Miss Emery gave, but instead, she takes my arm and pulls me closer. ‘Between you and me,’ she whispers, ‘Carl Anderson is the cause of Miss Emery’s recent problems.’

My insides twist. ‘Oh, really? How so?’

‘I shouldn’t really say, she’s trusting me not to speak about it …’

‘Go on. It’s clearly important or you wouldn’t be breaking confidence by saying this much.’

She gives an elaborate wave of her hand as though to dismiss me. Then sighs dramatically. I wonder if she catches my eye-roll.

‘Carl’s married,’ she says, finally. ‘He’s also much older, like, fifty-something. And yet neither of those things stopped him from relentlessly pursuing Miss Emery.’

‘He’s only in his forties, actually …’ I say, but realise that’s not the point. ‘Pursuing her? As in—’