thoughtless, disruptive, selfish, occasionally drunk, a teacher at a further education college nearing retirement
who seemed to regard her more immature students as role models. Earlier that year one of her wild enthusiasms had almost resulted
in Pam’s death and that was something neither of them had been able toforget … or forgive. Pam reasoned that she didn’t want Della, that most irresponsible of grandmothers, to influence their
children’s lives and Wesley tended to agree. On the other hand, Pam was her only daughter so he knew the estrangement was
painful. He found himself torn between an unspoken, nagging sympathy for the woman’s pathetic attempts to retain her fading
youth, and his instinctive desire to protect his children.
‘What did she say?’
Pam took a long sip of wine. ‘She’s come up with some story about one of her colleagues being in deep shit and wanting your
advice. But it’s only an excuse if you ask me. Have you had anything to eat?’
‘I had a takeaway with Gerry in the office.’ He reached over and touched her hand. ‘Do you want me to speak to Della?’
Deep trouble could mean anything … especially when it was the gospel according to Della who always tended to over-dramatise.
On the other hand, he hated loose ends and he couldn’t help feeling curious.
Pam put her glass on the table. ‘I put the phone down on her and I feel a bit bad about it now. She sounded genuinely worried.
She said this bloke was in serious trouble so maybe you should …’
‘No problem,’ Wesley lied. In his experience anything connected with Della was likely to become a problem sooner or later.
With a woman dead and Zac James still on the run, trouble was the last thing he wanted.
But family was family, even family of the estranged and feckless kind. He took out his mobile phone and found Della’s number.
When she answered she sounded grateful that he’d takenthe trouble to call. This seemed like a new Della, chastened and repentant. But he was reserving judgement for the moment.
‘You told Pam somebody’s in trouble. Not you is it?’
‘How can you think that, Wesley?’ A few months ago, before Pam had come face to face with death, she would have countered
with an insult but now she sounded hurt. ‘It’s a man called Simon Frith. He teaches History at my college and he’s been suspended
because someone’s made an accusation against him.’
‘What sort of accusation?’
‘Sexual assault of a fifteen-year-old girl. All nonsense of course.’
‘Is it?’ Della was a gullible woman and he knew from his years in the police service that sexual predators can be remarkably
plausible.
‘Yes. He’s a nice man. He’s got a lovely wife and three kids.’
‘That doesn’t make him innocent.’ She was beginning to irritate him and he knew he was in danger of abandoning his long-held
policy of keeping an open mind until he’d collected all the facts.
‘They picked him up at home a couple of nights ago and took him to Neston police station for questioning – locked him in a
cell. Can you find out what evidence they’ve got?’
‘I’m sure they’re doing a thorough investigation. Is he still being held?’
‘He’s been released on bail. The trouble is, he doesn’t even know why this girl’s accusing him. Can you find out? Please.
His wife’s going out of her mind. It’s the worst thing that can happen … to be accused unjustly like that.’
‘Hang on, Della, all the students where you teach are over sixteen, aren’t they?’
‘He’s been doing some private tutoring and it’s one of those kids who’s made the accusation. The police just kept on and on
at him, asking all these questions. What happened when he was alone with her? Did he fancy young girls? They even took his
computer away. Please, Wesley. I promised him you’d help.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that. I can’t interfere in someone else’s case. They’ll have
who seemed to regard her more immature students as role models. Earlier that year one of her wild enthusiasms had almost resulted
in Pam’s death and that was something neither of them had been able toforget … or forgive. Pam reasoned that she didn’t want Della, that most irresponsible of grandmothers, to influence their
children’s lives and Wesley tended to agree. On the other hand, Pam was her only daughter so he knew the estrangement was
painful. He found himself torn between an unspoken, nagging sympathy for the woman’s pathetic attempts to retain her fading
youth, and his instinctive desire to protect his children.
‘What did she say?’
Pam took a long sip of wine. ‘She’s come up with some story about one of her colleagues being in deep shit and wanting your
advice. But it’s only an excuse if you ask me. Have you had anything to eat?’
‘I had a takeaway with Gerry in the office.’ He reached over and touched her hand. ‘Do you want me to speak to Della?’
Deep trouble could mean anything … especially when it was the gospel according to Della who always tended to over-dramatise.
On the other hand, he hated loose ends and he couldn’t help feeling curious.
Pam put her glass on the table. ‘I put the phone down on her and I feel a bit bad about it now. She sounded genuinely worried.
She said this bloke was in serious trouble so maybe you should …’
‘No problem,’ Wesley lied. In his experience anything connected with Della was likely to become a problem sooner or later.
With a woman dead and Zac James still on the run, trouble was the last thing he wanted.
But family was family, even family of the estranged and feckless kind. He took out his mobile phone and found Della’s number.
When she answered she sounded grateful that he’d takenthe trouble to call. This seemed like a new Della, chastened and repentant. But he was reserving judgement for the moment.
‘You told Pam somebody’s in trouble. Not you is it?’
‘How can you think that, Wesley?’ A few months ago, before Pam had come face to face with death, she would have countered
with an insult but now she sounded hurt. ‘It’s a man called Simon Frith. He teaches History at my college and he’s been suspended
because someone’s made an accusation against him.’
‘What sort of accusation?’
‘Sexual assault of a fifteen-year-old girl. All nonsense of course.’
‘Is it?’ Della was a gullible woman and he knew from his years in the police service that sexual predators can be remarkably
plausible.
‘Yes. He’s a nice man. He’s got a lovely wife and three kids.’
‘That doesn’t make him innocent.’ She was beginning to irritate him and he knew he was in danger of abandoning his long-held
policy of keeping an open mind until he’d collected all the facts.
‘They picked him up at home a couple of nights ago and took him to Neston police station for questioning – locked him in a
cell. Can you find out what evidence they’ve got?’
‘I’m sure they’re doing a thorough investigation. Is he still being held?’
‘He’s been released on bail. The trouble is, he doesn’t even know why this girl’s accusing him. Can you find out? Please.
His wife’s going out of her mind. It’s the worst thing that can happen … to be accused unjustly like that.’
‘Hang on, Della, all the students where you teach are over sixteen, aren’t they?’
‘He’s been doing some private tutoring and it’s one of those kids who’s made the accusation. The police just kept on and on
at him, asking all these questions. What happened when he was alone with her? Did he fancy young girls? They even took his
computer away. Please, Wesley. I promised him you’d help.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that. I can’t interfere in someone else’s case. They’ll have
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