Never Miss A Trip

“Good morning, Houghton Secondary School, my name's Lisa.  How can I help you?”

“I certainly hope so.  Is Emma Strickland available?”

“Just a moment; I'll see if she's teaching.  Whom shall I say is calling?”

Conrad thought before deciding that honesty was the better option.  “It's Conrad Carmichael, and it's to do with one of her students.”

“Thank you, transferring you now.”

He waited for about a minute.  Be nice if utility call centres were this fast, he thought.

“Hello, Emma Strickland speaking.”

Not what he expected, his English teacher, back then, was much sterner in voice, shrill even.  “Good morning; I've just met one of your pupils at the cemetery.  A bit distressed in truth, a Rowena Carter.”

“Ahh, she was missing this morning.  Is she all right?”

“She is on her way to school as we speak.  I'm calling to try and stave off detention.  She's a good kid but was upset.”

“Oh dear, it's not like her to skip school these days.  Is there anything I should know about?”

“This may sound odd,” because it is, “but some man appears to have convinced her she was going to die this coming Saturday.”

Silence greeted this.  He could imagine her sitting at a desk thinking nutter while considering the police option.

“For real?   I had her made of sterner stuff than that.”

“Yes, for real.  This chap is quite a convincing man.”

“And you know why?”  There was a distance growing in her voice now, safeguarding dropping in.

“Because he told me the same thing.”

“And did you believe him too?”

“Err, yes, I did.  It's hard to explain.  It's not every day you're told that you will soon cease to be.”

On the other end of the line, Emma was rubbing her temple.  Jesus, there are more nutters around here than I first thought.  

“OK, and you say Rowena appeared rattled?”

“Look, I know it sounds silly, but it's affected her.  I called because she trusts you, favourite teacher, and all that.”

Emma thought that quite touching, “She told you that?”

“Yes, and she was at the cemetery because there wasn't anybody to talk to.  A case of thinking it's too silly to bother anyone with.”

Emma sighed; that was quite sad.  Having someone to talk to is very isolating.  But, of course, it might be because her boyfriend, Adrian, was on a school history trip.

“All right, Mr Carmichael, I will intervene when she gets here, and if she corroborates your story, then I'll see that no further action is necessary.  Now, on the matter of this strange man, do you have a name?   If he's troubling our pupils, I must pass it to the authorities.”

Conrad was reluctant to give Stringer's name.  There were things he needed to know. “I do, yes. However, I've arranged a meeting with him tomorrow concerning my own prediction.  I don't think he's a physical threat but I need to know if he believes what he says or is mad as a box of frogs.”

The turn of phrase made Emma smile, “Pupil welfare is paramount here.  It's not just physical, but psychological harm too.  If it's sent one of my best pupils into tears, I call it an issue.”

“Rowena wants answers too. So I said I would let her know after meeting him and that, if it were OK with you, I'd drop around to your dad's place on Saturday to tell her.”

Emma considered the options.  She decided talking to Rowena was the best one.  If she gave her any cause for concern, the whole matter would go to Colin and the police.

“And I suppose she told you that my late parent's home would be where we all are on Saturday?”

“Yes, my condolences on that.  I won't stay long.  You can hear what I have to say and decide on the best course of action, if necessary, then.”

“Very well, Mr Carmichael; I look forward to seeing you on Saturday.  Around ten in the morning would suit you.  I assume you know where to go.” Her mind was now distracted.

“Yes, your parent's home has resonance with strange events in local folklore.  I'll see you then.” He hung up and began walking home.

###

Emma put her phone down.  If it wasn't one thing, it was another.  She buzzed reception to discover that Rowena hadn't arrived yet, so she decided to go down and wait.  Have a coffee and ask if anyone knew this Conrad Carmichael.

Someone did.  Alastair Braithwaite, a music teacher also on a free period, knew Allan Carmichael.  Conrad was one of his other two brothers.  Together they ran a private investigation business.

He'd used them during his divorce, suspecting the former Mrs Braithwaite was putting it out a bit.  It turned out she was, and the cliched role of a PI became justified.  However, Alastair understood that the brothers had since moved into paranormal investigations.

Dots joining up, she thought.  It explained why Conrad knew about her parent's house and why he might want to interview the harbinger of death to see if he was genuine.  But, more importantly, their unusual hobby might be interested in a particular cursed mirror.  Mentally, she was now steering to meeting him on Saturday, irrespective of what Rowena might say.  The more she thought about it, the more she considered Conrad overgenerous.

He didn't need to call on behalf of Rowena at all.  If anything, that made him someone to get to know, a suitor.  Get a grip, Em; you only heard of him ten minutes ago.

Lisa interrupted her thought, “Miss Strickland, Rowena has just come in.”

“Sign her in for personal reasons, then please send her to my office.  I need to have a chat about attendance.”

Emma picked up a coffee and headed back up.

###

Rowena spent her walk back to school overthinking.  Like Adrian, she thought adults were out of touch and responsible for all the cock ups going on in the world.  It was as if the imagination and freedom of youth went out the window when you joined the rat race, and money became everything. 

Granted, it was necessary, but how come ideocracy was directly proportional to salary?   Teachers seemed more like your weird adult, but then they were exposed to young minds full of enthusiasm challenging their sanity daily.  Both Ade, her goth friends and herself all agreed that teachers needed them more than they needed teachers.  If the punch came to shove, books could teach you most things.

Conjoined with these considerations was the man Joe Stringer.  He'd been shuffling up the road when she passed him walking in the other direction.  His size caught her eye minutes before, and an empathic intelligence that told her behind the obesity was a pained mind.  She remembered feeling sorry for him until he stopped as she drew level.

“Rowena Carter, your life is in grave danger.”

That stopped her in her tracks.  “Excuse me.”

His face was anxious, and sweat dripped down the sides of his head.  “You heard; your life is going to end on Saturday.”

At first, she thought of junior school, and stranger danger leapt forwards.  Then again, if she walked fast, he looked like a coronary waiting to happen, “What makes you say that?” What was the phrase?  Curiosity killed the cat.

“I have a curse, and it is the power of foresight.  I saw you in a vision last night and knew if I walked here today, at this time, it would happen if, by coincidence, you were here.”

He grimaced, clearly not enjoying being out.  That was the first thing that struck Rowena as odd.  He was here to see if she were, and to her knowledge, she'd never set eyes on him before.  Not that you could and not remember.  Stringer was different from the type of character you would forget.

“Why Saturday?” she asked.

That was when his haunted eyes looked into hers.  “Because that is the day you will die.”

Those eyes told her he believed what he was saying and that she would take him as correct if she were as intelligent as he thought.

“Is there anything I can do to avoid it?” That seemed a reasonable question.  Of course, with hindsight, she should have asked, “How?” but that was a fantastic tool to hack her brain to pieces with later.

“No, Miss Carter, you can do nothing to avoid it, nothing at all.”

That was when her mind snapped, and the weirdo dropped in.  “You're a lying asshole,” she yelled at him before running off, trying not to cry.

Watching her run away, Joe Stringer thought yes, you all look down on me.  Except deeper down, it turned his guts to think his curse had claimed this victim already.  It was better not to know when you died after all.  However, part of him clutched at a tiny chance that knowing might make them do something that would prove his foresight wrong.  God, I hope that is the case.  He knew it wasn't.

###

She entered the school grounds with growing anxiety.  She was in trouble for not turning up, her parents would go crazy, and the school would think her mad for saying she would die on Saturday.

Even if it were true, it would still seem like a crazy suicide prediction and back off to that Whitaker bloke for more therapy.  But, unfortunately, Ade had to be away today.

Adrian was a positive thought, as was the stranger called Conrad at the cemetery.  Stumbling across an unwanted boyfriend had caught her out.  Before that day, she was happy being unattached at the school fence.  Now, she felt terrible when he was away.  No, terrible was not the right word.  Empty, like losing your best friend ever.  It hurt, even though my rational mind said it was only a history trip.

“Hello Rowena, good of you to turn up.  Sign in and then go straight to Miss Strickland's office.”

She looked up, and the autopilot disengaged.  “Am I in trouble?”

Lisa smiled her reception smile.  “No, I don't think so.  Between you and I, she asked me to mark your absence this morning for personal reasons.  So just be humble, and it may not be as bad as your look seems to think.  Just don't make a habit of it.”

“Thanks, it's been an extraordinary morning.” Rowena signed herself in and headed toward the head of English's office, where she stopped.  Deep breaths were the order of business.  She remembered that from Whitaker.

“In times of anxiety, try and control your breathing.  Slow inhale and exhale.  Bring your mind back into the moment and concentrate on your breath.”

Mindfulness exercises from a past that, one day, she might be able to tell Ade about.  On the second inhalation, she knocked on the door.

“Come in, Rowena.”

She entered, looking at the floor, and moved to Emma's desk.

“Firstly, are you OK?” said her teacher.

“Yes, Miss.  

I'm sorry if I've caused any trouble.” Keep breathing.

Emma looked across her desk.  Not at a pupil but at a young woman needing more than detention and a telling-off.  “Did you know you had a friend, well, a stranger as it happens, that you met this morning at the cemetery?”

Rowena looked up, “Conrad Carmichael?”

“Yes,” said Emma, “He called before you got back and asked me to overlook your absence because you were upset; rather nice of him, don't you think?”

Rowena knew where that question was leading, resulting in a growing sense of anger. 

“Meaning?” she snapped.

“Meaning nothing.  There are things I must ask to ensure nobody is trying to take advantage of you.  

According to Mr Carmichael, a man approached you yesterday and delivered some disturbing news.”

Anger now blended with embarrassment, “Yes, a big lump of a man told me I was going to die this weekend.  Not something you hear every day.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No, miss, he frightened me.”

“In what way?”

Apart from being sick with a headache, Rowena didn't quite know how to feel, “Just his eyes; I think he believed it.”

“And your imagination did the rest, I suppose?” Emma knew this was awkward.  You don't spend years teaching teenagers without recycling conversations every so often. 

Different topics and, granted, this were amongst the more unusual, but the pattern and emotional impact mostly stayed the same.  Emma hated how distraught they got.  It usually train-wrecked her day too.

“So, it would seem.  All the hallmarks of a silly kid to everyone else, the butt of a joke, gullible and easily led.”

Emma saw her eyes flash, anger management Rowena.  Hard though, feeling like an idiot in front of your favourite, so said Carmichael, teacher.  Or was that rapidly turning to ex-favourite?  She sighed, “Rowena, please understand I'm not trying to belittle you. 

When a stranger calls me to say he's been talking to one of my brightest pupils, I have a duty of care to seek out the truth.  Whether we like it or not, some people try to take advantage of or, God forbid, groom attractive young ladies like you for all the wrong reasons.  As your teacher, I have to make sure you are safe.”

Rowena looked at the floor.

“Do you understand, young lady, the magnitude of what's going on here?  Your mother will have received an absence text this morning; the school will follow that up with phone calls to your emergency contacts on a rota.  If nobody knows where you are by break time, the next call is to the police to report a missing student.  Without Mr Carmichael's call, we were extremely close to the latter.”

“I never thought Miss.”

Emma relaxed; the anger had blown out.  Stage one is completed, now to make good the relations.  Good cop, bad cop all rolled into one.  Who said teachers had it easy can't know any.

“It's common when people are upset.  It doesn't mean we are mad at you.  It means we all care about your safety and for you as a person.” She was still looking at the floor.  “Rowena, look at me, please.”

Rowena felt about as small as a mouse.  She looked up and met her English teacher's eyes.  Like Stringers, they were bright and honest.  That was why she believed him.  She knew that now; the eyes held the keys to the person.  Emma was exactly like him in that she did mean what she said. 

Ade cared; she knew that and missed him badly right now; a connection was fast setting into something most people flit with but never find.  Her parents managed enough to argue and split up, leaving her with a mum that struggled emotionally to hold herself together.  Rowena grew up too fast and early, feeling isolated and unloved.

“That's better,” said Emma handing her a tissue from the square box labelled for those moments.  “People care, you know; sometimes they don't show it as often as they should.” She could hear the shallow breathing, stuttering, and trying to stay composed.  “Take Mr Carmichael, for example; he didn't need to phone in, did he?  He could easily have ignored you this morning and walked on, but he chose not to.

Even we teachers could have gone through the safeguarding pep talk and thrown detention at you.  I'm not recommending that, though.”

“I know, Miss; sometimes things seem serious one minute and then stupid the next.  I never cared much about stuff like that until...” she tailed off; no freaking way.

Emma smiled, “Yes, I saw you wave at him across the square.  Being a teenager is not easy when maturing and hormonal changes kick in.  Things that seem insignificant become insane, and important things end up in the background.  I believe that may be what's happened here.”

This time, a flush rose on Rowena's cheeks, “Well, he is a bit cute.”

Emma chuckled at that and finished her coffee.  “Right, in order and just to satisfy formalities.  Did either man physically threaten you?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did they threaten or attempt to harm you in any other way?”

“No, Miss, well, Mr Stringer did scare me, but he might need help.  Like I did before if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Rowena, I've cited that on the incident form, but I meant Mr Carmichael.  Good Samaritan or a little too touchy-feely.”

Rowena opened her mouth, closed it again, and took time to think before reacting; Whitaker again.  “Conrad was a proper Samaritan.  He asked if I was OK, and I told him to go away, which he did until I called him back.  If you met him, then you'd understand.” You might even find boyfriend material that she did not say.

Emma felt relieved at the latter; Conrad Carmichael very much sounded the gentleman on the phone.  Stop it, Emma.  “Good; now I will have to file this with the headmaster, and the decision on what to do will pass from there.  However, I doubt anything will happen beyond a generic warning letter informing all parents that a stranger approached a pupil.  I will write a letter to your mother to take home this afternoon stressing that you are all right and that the school is satisfied you were, or are not, returning to deliberate truancy.  There is one proviso...”

“Which is Miss?”

“You can promise me now that, one, you are not contemplating deliberate truancy and, two, if you have any similar issues like today, you come into school and see me or someone you feel comfortable with.”

“Yes, Miss, I think I can do that...  unless...”

Emma raised her eyebrows, “Unless...” she repeated.

“Unless Mr Stringer is right, I may be off for a while from next week,” The delivery was deadpan.

“Are you still worried about what he said?”

“Not so much after talking to Mr Carmichael and you, but something still troubles me about his conviction.  He believes what he says.”

“Then consider helping Adrian's detention turned community service, assisting me at the weekend to ensure you are safe.  I also understand Mr Carmichael is convening another interview with Mr Stringer to find out what he's playing at and that he will also be coming over to ease your mind on the matter afterwards.”

“Thank you, Miss, and I apologise for all the trouble I've caused.”

“Don't make a habit of it is all I ask...  and Rowena.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“You are quite right; Adrian is cute, so tread carefully.”

Rowena blushed again, although it went unnoticed since she had already turned to leave.  

She paused with the door half open, “Oh, Miss...”

“Yes?”

“So is Mr.  Carmichael.” She said this as the door was closing after her.