Free Blood and Stone by Chris Collett Page A

Police Community Support Officer with responsibility for Kingsmead High School. In the last few years it had become increasingly commonplace to base PCSOs within certain secondary schools to monitor behaviour and to support staff as part of ‘Operation Safe Schools’. It was an initiative that had initially horrified Knox and his contemporaries, mainly because of what it said about the changing schools culture. But since then the success of the scheme couldn’t be denied. The mere presence of a uniformed officer had done much to improve communication and even relationships between the police and communities, and was effective in helping them to stay one step ahead of certain troublemakers.
    â€˜How’s it going?’ Knox asked.
    â€˜All quiet today,’ Dukes said. ‘Though the weather doesn’t help. They’ll be climbing the walls if they can’t get outside at break time.’
    â€˜Is a lad called Michael Purcell on your radar? He’s fourteen, coming up fifteen, so that would make him—’
    â€˜Year ten,’ said Dukes. ‘It’s not a name I know, why?’
    â€˜He’s a neighbour of mine. I think there’s a possibility he might have started smoking a bit of weed. Looks harmless at the moment, but can you let me know if he comes to your attention for anything?’
    â€˜Sure. Not anything to do with Jean Purcell is he?’ asked Dukes.
    â€˜Yes, he’s her lad.’ Knox had forgotten that Jean had supply taught at the high school for a short time, so would be known to him. ‘Why do you ask?’
    â€˜Just interested. She always seemed a bit … how can I put this? Highly strung?’
    It was a fair comment. ‘This isn’t coming from her,’ Knox said. ‘I’ve smelt it on him. Just keep a look out for me, will you?’
    â€˜Of course. I’ll let you know if there’s anything to report.’
    Mariner ate breakfast alone in a dim and cheerless dining room, the barmaid in absentia, which at least saved both of them further embarrassment. He’d woken early with a thumping headache, the black dog lying heavily on his chest and his face wet. As always, it had taken him a few seconds to fast forward to the present, bringing everything flooding back to him anew, and now he had a grim church service and the humiliation of the night before to add to his misery.
    Fruit, cereals, tea and coffee dispensers were set out buffet-style on the heavy dresser, along with insulated silver tureens of scrambled eggs and bacon that looked surprisingly fresh and appetizing. To make up for the lack of human presence the regional radio station gabbled in the background what seemed to be wall-to-wall adverts for local traders. If Mariner could have seen where it was he’d have turned it off. After breakfast he packed his few belongings and checked out, letting the landlord know that he’d be leaving his car in the car park for a few days.
    Outside it was cool and fresh; the rain had stopped but gunmetal clouds swept low across the sky, threatening its resumption at any time. It could go either way, but hopefully by the time he set off it might have cleared. At his car he began sorting out what he needed to take with him as a minimum. It was a long time since he’d travelled so light, and he had to think hard before stuffing only the essentials into his rucksack: a change of clothes, soap and toothbrush, warm and waterproof clothing, a water bottle and a torch. His hand lighted on the cardboard box Gareth had given him yesterday and, unable to resist, he opened it and took out the scarf, soft cashmere in a golden brown that had perfectly complemented Anna’s eyes. He did now what he’d wanted to yesterday: holding it to his face he breathed in her perfume, and felt his nerve endings burn with pain.
    â€˜You sentimental dick,’ she said, suddenly appearing beside him, a wry smile on her face.