Page 78 of A Class Act

‘Sorrel, the competition for a place at Susan Yates’ is huge. Emily Benton was there…’

‘Who?’

‘Sweet Girls – a group from the nineties,’ I said vaguely. ‘Ava Wheathouse, and… and…’ I couldn’t think of any other past pupils.

‘Duo Lister,’ Sorrel put in helpfully.

‘So, you just gave up?’ I asked. ‘Stopped going to your dance class?’

‘The girls at Beddingfield High said I was a full-of-it-all; a know-all. Especially when I said I was going to the Susan Yates Theatre School in London.’

‘What, you were being bullied?’

‘Bullied? Me? I wouldn’t let any of those bitches bully me.’

‘So you decided to bunk off school?’

‘Wouldn’tyou, if they were putting stuff up on Snapchat about you and constantly sending awful stuff to your phone?’

‘Why didn’t you tell Mum? Jayden? Jess?’

Sorrel rubbed at the one made-up eye, smudging the heavy eyeshadow. ‘And make Mum even more ill? Have her back in hospital? Jayden? He’s never around and when he is, he’s always telling me to chill, it will all get better if I just hang on in there. He hates anything to do with school and education, you know that. And Jess? Oh yes, Jess would have been right in there, wouldn’t she, lying in wait for the mean girls? It would havebeen even worse for me if she’d intervened.’ Sorrel rubbed at her eye again. ‘It just got worse and worse, so I stopped going to school?—’

Sorrel broke off as the doorbell went again.

‘Stay there,’ I ordered Sorrel. Had Mason called the police? I could hear him and Peter Collinson talking in the kitchen, Peter no doubt trying to convince Mason he only had Sorrel’s interests at heart.

‘Sorrel isvery talented,’ I heard Peter gush through the open kitchen door. ‘Someone needed to help her, Mason; to understand her full potential. I am her teacher, nothing more, so I don’t know what her sister’s implying. Because, I tell you now, her bloody irresponsible parents and dysfunctional family don’t appear to be helping her…’

The doorbell sounded again, but still no one seemed to be opening the door. I made my way downstairs and, as the bell went for a third time, opened it.

‘Oh?’ I frowned in surprise. ‘What areyoudoing here?’

The boy, obviously startled, threw a nervous look in my direction before attempting to turn and make off, but I grabbed hold of his jacket while shouting for Mason to come and help.

‘Joel?’ Mason said, running down the stairs towards the pair of us. ‘What’s going on?’ He took hold of Joel Sinclair’s other arm and together we pulled him inside and closed the outer door, Mason leaning heavily with his sturdy weight against it, blocking any potential flight. ‘Come on, Joel, you can tell us. What are you up to here? Anddon’ttell me you’re here to dance as well.’

‘Well, actually, I am.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Peter’s been giving me lessons?—’

‘Oh,’ I interrupted, beginning to understand a little, ‘so the fabulousjetéyou did out of the drama studio that first morning…’

‘Yep.’ Joel gave me a hard stare, daring me to come back at him.

‘There you go, then.’ Mason smiled at both of us. ‘It appears to be all above board. Peter’s a ballet teacher and is helping these two kids to achieve their dreams. Good on him. Come on, Robyn.’ Mason looked at his watch. ‘Get Sorrel and go home.’

‘IknowPeter Collinson,’ I snapped. ‘I know what he is…’

‘And what is he?’ Mason held up his hands. ‘What, Robyn?’

‘He’s a paedophile, a sex pest: preys on young girls. Maybe young boys too?’ I stared hard at Joel who, with hands shoved into his hoody pocket, was looking angry. ‘When I was twelve he was my dance teacher. He groomed and sexually assaulted me…’

‘What you suggesting, miss?’ Joel glared in my direction. ‘He’s never touched me. Ugh, I wouldn’t let some bloke touchme.’

‘So, whatdoeshe get from you, then, Joel, if it’s not sex?’

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