Chalk Dust & Broomsticks, Chapter 44

Althea intimidates one of the teachers and Jane takes matters into her own hands.

The New Teacher
Althea was slowly increasing her hours in the school. She decided to look in on Miss Brown’s Country Dancing class, which was taking place in the school hall. It was Purple Class’s turn for Country Dancing and Miss Brown, a new teacher, was struggling to maintain order. When Roland pushed Mark, and Mark fell over, a high-pitched drama ensued, culminating in the cruel chanting of "Tell tale tit, your mother can’t knit, etc."

Miss Brown, with as much authority as she could muster, brought the children to order, relieved when Mark said he was fine. However, she hadn't seen the stern, dark face of Althea Gardner peering through the hall windows.

The double doors swung open. Althea’s body filled the space, and her long arm pointed dramatically at Roland. Her bracelets jangling ominously, she shouted: “That boy – in my office, NOW!”

In her office, Althea reprimanded Roland, threatening him with the slipper hanging on the wall. What Althea hadn't seen, or didn't care to acknowledge, was that Mark pushed Roland first. She sent him back to class with a terse note for Miss Brown, "inviting" the new teacher to see her during the afternoon break.

Miss Brown, annoyed that her precious break time was being infringed upon, timidly knocked on the Head Teacher’s door. The brass sign, ‘A. Gardner – Headteacher,’ seemed to stare her down.

Althea finished her writing before acknowledging Miss Brown. “Sit down, Miss Brown, if you please. I wanted to tell you that I have spoken to Roland about his behaviour.”

“Boys will be boys!” Miss Brown replied confidently.

“Maybe, but if you had been paying attention to the situation as you should have been, this incident would not have happened, would it?”

Miss Brown defended herself, “I have a large class, Althea, I can’t watch all of them all of the time.”

Althea leaned back, sucking the end of her pen. Her voice lowered: “How are you coping, Miss Brown? Is the job as you expected it to be? Or is it getting a little much for you, sometimes?” Her smile was sly, she was enjoying herself.

As Miss Brown reached into her bag for a tissue, her bag fell, and a tampon rolled under Althea’s desk. Miss Brown flushed, prostrating herself awkwardly on the floor to retrieve the offending article.

“Time of the month, is it, Miss Brown?” Althea’s voice was smooth.

Quick as a flash, Althea was out of her seat and around the desk. Her long, large arm enveloped Miss Brown’s shoulders, and her enormous, soft bosom stroked the side of Miss Brown’s face. Amy (Miss Brown) could feel the essence of Althea all around her, the perfume enveloping her in a cloud of musk, the strength of her personality holding her frailty in its grip.

Miss Brown began to cry uncontrollably. Althea’s mouth, now close to Miss Brown’s ear, whispered hotly, “Remember I’m here for you. You are not alone.”

Reluctantly, Althea loosened her grip, standing up so her size and power blotted out the light from the window. Miss Brown, feeling intimidated, vulnerable, and alone, stood to leave. Althea let her go, enjoying the view of her curvaceous rear as it moved towards the door. The Headteacher's manipulation was not limited to career advancement and murder cover-ups; she was now actively preying on the weak within her own school.

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The Butcher's Confession

The following morning, Gerald was collected and taken back to the police station. He had an appointment with a psychologist and his lawyer, and he knew he was in deep trouble.

He was ushered into an interview room where Inspector Stanhope sat waiting. Gerald didn’t need prompting.

“They’re not my keys, Inspector,” he blurted out, placing Althea’s swapped keys on the table. “After the staff Christmas party, there was rubbish to dispose of in the boiler room, but I couldn’t get in because my keys were missing.I didn’t go into the boiler house for two days, not until I remembered Althea kept a spare set in her office.”

“And you think Althea swapped your keys with hers?” Stanhope asked, his eyes gleaming with professional interest.

“She must’ve done,” Gerald insisted. “She’s the only one who had a set like mine, and they were the ones I found hanging up yesterday. I think she must have taken mine when she dragged the body in. She wanted to make sure they had my prints, not hers.”

Gerald confessed his horror at the initial discovery. He explained his actions with cold, butcher-like logic: "I just wanted rid of it. It was quick, less than three hours. It wasn't difficult to cut up the body and burn the parts. I wasn't interested in who it was, only in clearing up the mess in my private space."

Stanhope sat back, absorbing the new detail. Gerald's evidence, combined with the texts sent from Alex’s phone to Althea and Nick, proved an intricate cover-up scheme had been set in motion by the two administrators.

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Back home, Jane was scrubbing a burnt porridge pot, her blood boiling. "We'll lose the house, the job... because that bitch over there lost her temper once too often!" Her anger solidified into a chilling resolve. I’ll make her pay for what she’s done. I’ll find a way somehow. She lamented throwing away the pieces of the broken statuette she'd found in Althea's former office.

She began to worry about her son Wayne, whose fingerprints were all over the red sports car. That's another problem Althea's created.

Later that morning, Jane went to the junior side of the school building, hoping to tackle Althea about the keys, but she was nowhere about. She overheard two teachers, Amy Brown and Pauline Peppard, gossiping as they cut curly paper wigs for the Christmas pantomime.

"The old bat's out this morning, thank God," said Miss Brown.

"To a meeting at the L.E.A. (Local Education Authority) office, I suppose," Mrs. Peppard confirmed, pointing to Althea's notation on the staff whiteboard.

Jane, limping with dejection, left the room. She knew the Head Teacher's office would be locked. The only person with a key now was Mrs. Philips, the Deputy Head. Jane's dejection quickly turned to focus. Althea was gone, the office was vulnerable, and Jane had a fierce motive.

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Jane’s Vigil
Jane waited until the school day was fully underway. She knew the time, lunchtime, when the dinner ladies would be at their busiest, the teachers distracted, and the administration area slightly quieter because Shirley was going to the bank. Her hip ached, but adrenaline sharpened her focus.

Althea’s current office, now located in the newer administration block, was an isolated space. Jane took the old set of Althea's keys, the set Gerald found, from her cleaning trolley. They were of no use for the main administrative lock, which required the latest security fob, but they might work for the internal doors.

She found the Head Teacher’s office door locked, as expected, but she knew the window latch was loose. The windows were high, but her trolley, usually used for carrying industrial cleaners and heavy buckets, was sturdy. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she maneuvered the trolley beneath the window.

Climbing awkwardly onto the trolley's top shelf, Jane heard the metal groan in protest. She reached the window, feeling like a thief, a role she embraced if it meant saving her Gerald. The latch gave with surprising ease, and with a grunt of effort, she managed to slide the heavy frame open just enough to slip a strong metal ruler, usually used for scraping gum from floors, through the gap. Working the ruler like a lever, she pushed the window further until she could hoist herself over the ledge and tumble silently onto the thick carpet inside.

The office was exactly as Althea had left it: obsessively neat, with deep mahogany furniture and a faint, lingering scent of that overpowering musk perfume. The room, devoid of personality, felt like a fortress. Ignoring the desk for now, her eyes fell on the enormous, multi-functional photocopier that Althea had insisted on placing in her own office. Althea rarely used the school secretary's help, preferring to handle all confidential documents herself. Jane knew these machines sometimes saved copies in an internal memory.

She pressed the 'Copy History' button. The machine whirred, and a list of recently scanned and printed documents appeared on the small screen. Most were class registers and circulars, but one stood out. It was labelled 'Confidential – L.E.A Transfer Agreement', had been copied several times. Jane pressed the 'Print' button, hoping to reveal the contents.

The machine spat out two pages. The first page was a contract outlining the terms of Alex Simmons's new role at the L.E.A office. Jane’s eyes darted to the second page, both of which were signed by Nick Blunt…

"A bloody blackmail contract," Jane muttered, her jaw tight. It was a clear motive:

A sudden loud noise in the corridor, a teacher shouting at a child, forced Jane back to reality. She swiftly copied the contents of the Transfer Agreement into her cleaning notebook and replaced the copied pages carefully. She had a motive, and a connection to Nick Blunt.

She scrambled back out the window, sliding the heavy frame shut behind her, then carefully descended her makeshift ladder. The ache in her hip was forgotten; her mind was racing with a desperate new line of inquiry.

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