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“Me neither, so we’ll be quick.”
“What’s going on, Sarge? I mean, really, what’s going on?”
The temptation was to pour out his fears to this big, confident man, and he had to hold himself back. Kent said Eddy was ‘sound’, but Kent wasn’t here. Eddy was a local, and until Charlie had a better handle on whatever had been happening in this town, he was trusting no one. So, he focussed on the place itself.
“Tell me about the Art College,” he said.
“One of the oldest centres of learning in Wales,” Eddy began, sounding like a publicity website. Then he grinned. “I grew up here, and it’s just part of the town. Some people resent it, see the students swanning about thinking they own the place, not speaking the language. But it’s keeping the shops open, and the pubs. And they make an effort, you know? Hold events open to everyone. Encourage the students to join things in the town.”
“There are people who will moan about anything,” Charlie said, and without conscious thought, said it in Welsh. Eddy didn’t bat an eyelid
Eddy led Charlie to the main street, as far as a mini roundabout and a war memorial tucked in next to a bank. A second street led off the roundabout at right angles. The pavements weren’t crowded, but Eddy was right that the shops and cafes appeared to be thriving. There were all the essentials: chemist, optician, hardware store, more than one bank, vet's surgery, plus clothes shops (for women only, Charlie noted), charity shops and a large whole food emporium. Eddy pointed out the library and supermarket through an archway next to a shop selling Welsh blankets. On the opposite side was a high wall, lined with parked cars, and a couple of drivers blocking the road as they waited for a space.
“Free parking, see,” said Eddy.
The college was behind the wall. The access was via a pedestrian gate which led to a grassy park, now scattered with fallen leaves. They followed the path to the bottom of a set of well-worn stone steps. At the top, dark wooden double doors stood open under a high archway. Once through the doors, Charlie saw that the building was only a couple of rooms deep, with another set of doors opening opposite, so that they could walk straight through to the other side.
“It’s like a square donut shape,” Eddy said, as they went through the second set of doors and emerged into a big space, surrounded by three stories of attractive building. The walls were a soft buttery coloured stone, and all the windows had leaded panes.
The court was lawned, with a fountain in the middle. Not a huge fountain, but a fountain, and working. Water landed almost silently in a mossy bowl, then trickled into a pool below. It must have been lovely in summer, and Charlie had a moment’s regret that he had joined the police straight from school. If universities were all like this… It seemed to Charlie that this was an American Ivy League or Oxbridge college, except it was in the middle of a small Welsh town. Outside its walls there were shops selling buckets and coal scuttles, dog food and Welsh cakes. Cars blocked the road to grab a free space, or chat to their friend on the pavement. It was the kind of town where Charlie felt at home. The college was alien, but at the same time, it had been here for so long that it fitted.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Eddy asked, and Charlie nodded. “We need to be on the other side,” Eddy said and set off around the courtyard towards another arched doorway.
A group of students had easels set up on the grass and appeared to be drawing a pile of leaves—a Sisyphean task, as the gentlest breeze stirred the pile. Another group of students were being exhorted to look at it, really look. The it in question was the stone wall of the college. Charlie was interested, despite his lack of knowledge of anything even vaguely ‘arty’.
“I never did art,” Eddy said. “It clashed with rugby, but it doesn’t look like I missed much.”
“Fewer trips to hospital,” Charlie countered, and Eddy laughed.
They climbed the steps to the door and followed the sign with a finger painted in gold indicating College Principal in cursive script. The sign led them up a set of polished wooden stairs to a door saying Principal. Please knock and enter.
Eddy knocked and they entered. The door opened onto a spacious office, with big windows looking out onto the fountain. A middle-aged woman looked up from her computer and asked how she could help.
“DC Edwards and DS Rees,” Charlie said. “We’re here to see the principal about some missing students?”
The woman smiled. “I’m his secretary. I’ll let Dr Pennant know you’re here.” She picked up a phone on her desk
“I have two police officers to see you, Dr Pennant,” she said. She put the phone down, stood up and walked round her desk to open a door to the neighbouring office. “Just go in. Can I bring you a coffee, or a cup of tea?” Charlie shook his head, and they followed her in. Standing behind the desk with a smile of welcome on his face, was the man who had tried to pick Charlie up the night before.
Scrubs up well
Monday 11.15am
Messages sent three weeks previously.
Message to all LCA students from Sir John Singer, Principal
You may have heard the rumours of a series of assaults on female students. These are alleged to have taken place both on and off the campus. Please be assured that your college takes these allegations very seriously. We are working closely with Llanfair Police to establish what, if anything, has happened.
The safety of our student body is of paramount importance. If you have any information about these alleged events, please speak to one of your tutors. Women students are also advised to carry an alarm (available from the LCA shop).
Message to all LCA students from LCA Student Union
We believe women students! The attacks are real! Watch out for each other at all times—don’t leave your fellow students on their own, especially after dark. Get a rape alarm (free from the union office) and carry it at all times. Your Student Union is collecting information. We are demanding college management takes this issue seriously. Find out more by attending the general meeting on Thursday at noon.
Charlie stared, his mind in turmoil. It was definitely the same man—beard, brown eyes, as tall and broad as Eddy, but without the evidence of years of rugby. Only he wasn’t dressed as a lumberjack. Today, Tom was wearing a grey Prince of Wales check suit of impeccable cut, with a navy waistcoat and a pink shirt. No tattoos were visible. Charlie wondered which was the real Tom Pennant, and whether, if he had first met be-suited Tom, his reaction to the bearded man would have been different. He was acutely conscious of his own lack of sartorial elegance. Tom was staring back at him and, Charlie feared, remembering his rudeness.
It took Eddy shuffling his feet to break the silence. Charlie realised that he was expected to take the lead. To be the professional.
