Don't Breathe

of coffee he’d just brewed with his state-of-the-art bean-to-cup machine. It was an indulgence, he knew, but he’d been able to persuade the governors that if visitors were offered good coffee it would ensure that they had a favourable view of Cam and his school. Nobody had yet complained about the machine being set up in the head’s office. Nobody would dare. His staff knew that he didn’t tolerate dissention and more than one teacher had found themselves on early bus duty for two terms in a row for challenging him. Not that they’d be able to prove that he’d engineered the change.
Cam liked these few minutes between staff briefing and the start of the school day because, with most of the teachers in registration, it gave him time to take stock and to plan. He’d sent other members of the senior leadership team to various points around the school: Penny, the deputy head, was in year twelve assembly and the two assistant heads were working with years seven and eight. This was his time and he felt entitled to use it however he saw fit. It wasn’t easy running a school this size – one that got amazing exam results and had been rated as outstanding twice by OFSTED – but he relished the challenges of the job. Normally.
A knock at the door distracted him from the mental preparation of his speech for the yearly prize-giving evening. A speech that invariably had some parents in tears and most of them full of praise for him and his staff.
‘What?’ he snapped. The admin staff knew that he didn’t like to be disturbed between 8.45 and 9am and the occasions when one of them had felt the need were extremely rare. They were aware of the consequences of interrupting his few minutes of peace and quiet.
The school receptionist who also worked as his PA, Ruth Warnesford, peered round the door, her usually ruddy face pale and frightened. Cam deliberately came across as abrupt at times, but he hardly felt that his response to the knock warranted a look of such utter terror.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ Ruth said. ‘You need to come to reception.’
‘What is it? Not another bloody irate parent?’ Cam had thought a few times about moving offices. Being just off the reception area made his room the first port of call if there were any difficulties at the front desk. He could easily persuade Penny to move – not that persuasion would be necessary. After all it was his school.
‘No. It’s more serious than that.’
In the six years that Ruth had been working for him, Cam had never known her to exaggerate a situation or to panic in the face of stress. She was an experienced administrator and always dealt with staff and students politely without being too familiar. As far as he knew the woman didn’t gossip either which was, without doubt, her best qualification for her job. He always thought that a PA should be like a priest or a doctor and never, ever give anything away about their employer. He could see now, though, that she was uncharacteristically agitated, and he knew that whatever he found in reception wouldn’t be pleasant.
‘Fine.’ He sighed. He slid out from behind his desk, took one second in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door to fasten the jacket of his dark grey suit, covering the bottom of his waistcoat where a few extra pounds meant he had to leave the button undone, and smooth his thinning fair hair before stepping out into the school’s main reception. A sixth-form student was sitting in one of the seats reserved for visitors with Penny Bainbridge, the deputy head who was supposed to have been in an assembly. He was irritated to see that the woman had her arm round the girl’s shoulders; always too touchy-feely for his liking. And a bit too casual in her dress – her dark trousers looked a lot like jeans and the pale blue blouse she wore was baggy and ‘hippyish’. At least her chestnut hair was tied back in a tight ponytail which contained its unruliness – for now.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking from Penny to Ruth and then to the girl.
‘This,’ Penny responded handing him a folded piece of paper.
He took it from her and read:
Armed men approaching humanities block. Call police. Now!!
‘What the hell…? Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?’
The girl looked up at him, her brown eyes magnified by tears. ‘Miss Frith sent me, sir. She seemed to be in a bit of a panic.’
‘And you read this private communication between…?’
‘Cam!’ Penny snapped, standing up and staring him down. ‘Not really the point. What do we do?’
He stared at the girl, trying to think. He had no idea. All the training he’d had regarding school invasions, all the hours of reading and roleplaying, and he hadn’t a clue what to do next. His brain seemed to be shutting down. He was panicking. ‘I… er… I…’
‘We need to call the police,’ Ruth said. ‘We need to get them here now.’
‘What if it’s a false alarm?’ Cam knew that she was right, but he couldn’t help but think about the local press; what would it do to his reputation if he called the police for a stupid prank?
‘We need to make sure this is real. How do we know that it isn’t just a student playing a sick joke?’
‘Sir,’ Keely’s voice was faint but firm. ‘Miss Frith gave me that note. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.’
Penny gave her arm a reassuring pat and looked at him expectantly. ‘Do you think I should call the police?’
‘Yes. Call 999 and explain the situation. I’m going over to the humanities block to see if I can see anything,’ Cam said, hoping he sounded a lot more decisive than he felt.
‘What about the rest of the students and staff? Shouldn’t we be evacuating?’ Penny asked.
‘Where to? The fire assembly