Free A Game For All The Family by Sophie Hannah

bags over her shoes to protect them from mud while she watered plants in the flowerbeds outside her office. I knew at once that I was in the right place.
    I lean against the car and draft a text to Alex, telling him I need to talk to him as soon as possible. Then I button up the coat I still own because I haven’t donated it to a friend in need, and walk up the long path to the school’s front door. Ellen leapt out of the car, mumbled, “See you later,” and ran away before I’d turned the engine off. She wants no part of what I’m about to do, even though I’m doing it to help her best friend in the whole world.
    “Justine!” a woman’s voice calls out.
    I turn around. It’s Kendra Squires, the young Canadian teaching assistant who inflicts extra one-to-one maths sessions on those children like Ellen who hate the subject most. Despite this regular torture, Kendra is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. If she were an actress, she would be endlessly cast as the good-hearted innocent who dies tragically young.
    “Is Ellen with you?” she asks me. “I mean—sorry, of course I can see she’s not with you, but is she in school now?”
    “Sorry, we had a late start this morning. Yeah, she’s there now. Did she miss a session with you?”
    “No, no, it’s nothing like that. I wanted to talk to her, though. Unless . . .” Kendra tucks a stray strand of her wispy blond hair behind her ear. “Well, maybe I could . . . we could . . . ?”
    “You want to talk to me instead?”
    “I feel . . . I mean, I don’t want to put any extra pressure on her, but there are times when it would really help me if I could set her some work sheets for homework? You know, covering what we’ve done together that day? Like I used to?”
    “That’s fine. I didn’t realize you’d stopped.”
    “I know I’m supposed to wait until she’s finished this story she’s writing for English, but—”
    “What?”
    “She’s writing a story? A murder mystery, I was told.” Something about the way Kendra says it suggests that the person who told her wasn’t Ellen.
    “You were told?”
    “Yes, by Mrs. Griffiths. She said you don’t want Ellen getting other homework until she’s finished her story. Is that not right?” Kendra’s forehead creases in concern.
    It’s certainly not right—I said no such thing—but I’m keen to avoid the torrent of apologies that would follow if I set her straight. I smile and say, “It’s no problem. I’ll talk to Lesley about it. But yeah, from my point of view, I’m happy for you to set Ellen some maths to do at home.”
    “Fantastic!” Kendra beams. “I’d better scoot—can’t keep the little darlings waiting!” She gives me a cheery wave and rushes on ahead of me.
    My phone buzzes in my coat pocket. I pull it out to see if I want to answer, half-expecting to see the words “Anonymous Lunatic” on the screen. Thankfully, there’s no evidence as yet that the loon knows my mobile number.
    It’s Alex. “Oh,” I say, caught off guard. “I wasn’t expecting you to call so soon.”
    “Your text made it sound important. Everything okay?”
    “Um . . . I think so, but . . . Look, can I call you back later?”
    “What’s going on, Justine?”
    “Nothing. How’s Berlin? How’s it all going?”
    “Great. All’s well my end. What about you? Has something happened?”
    “No, nothing. Look, you must be busy, and I’m . . . out and about. Let’s talk tonight.”
    “I’m not busy. I’ll be busy later, and you sound shifty. What aren’t you telling me?”
    The same thing I asked Ellen less than an hour ago. I know how infuriating it is to be fobbed off.
    “Don’t make it sound like some kind of conspiracy,” I say, feeling guilty.
    “Don’t try to put off telling me, hoping you can sort it out on your own and pretend there was never a problem.”
    I sigh. “All right, just . . . I hope you’re in a patient mood.” I sit down on the wide stone