Fervent

Chapter 11 { perspective }

Chapter 11 { perspective }

It was Friday, and Buzz and I had agreed, through lip locking and some kind of telepathy, that the public announcement of our relationship thing would just have to wait.

Anyway, He text me when I got home on Thursday, this is more fun.

I decided I'd start asking my teachers questions today, and hope that no one got upset about the intrusive nature of it. I sat down first with Mr. Sulavan's superior.

"Mr. Bull, I really appreciate you sitting down with me. Now I have to stress that anything you tell me will not be publicized, it is all in confidentiality." I said, reading the notes I'd writen out carefully last night so I didn't offend anyone. I checked them over with Jamie and he said they were alright.

"I know, Ebony. Listen, I don't know what you're doing, sweetheart, but please don't get yourself in too deep." He said before I could finish. Mr. Bull was a friend of my mom's who used to come round and have dinner with us. Of course he and my dad talked about many things, and since dad left Mr. Bull hadn't returned. But mom still insisted he was our friend.

"I won't." I said without acknowledging anything he'd said at all. "When was the last time you saw Mr. Sulavan?" I asked, going through the basic stuff.

"Friday night, he was leaving here at 7. He usually stayed later, he said it was to do with work, but between me and you, I think he had problems at home." No Kidding. "Anyway, he looked distressed, but he did generally when he was leaving- I don't think he was distressed because he knew he would be murdered, that's what I mean. He had all his stuff in the boot of his car, though. I thought he might be leaving his home, but apparently he was just staying in a B&B for the weekend. We know how that ends."

It was easier than I thought it'd be, asking the teachers about their dead colleague. They all wanted their say, their story told. I went from classroom to classroom at break and lunch asking them questions over their lunch boxes.

"He was a nice man," Mrs. Ange from the art department who was often seen having tea with Mr. Sulavan said, sat back in her chair. "It was such a shame, too. He was saving up for a house for himself. His wife, you see, a bit of a crazy one. He'd tell me all these ridiculous stories about how she refused to wash his clothes and cook him dinner. Crazy, I tell ya. Anyway, he was getting out of there, but the house didn't open up until next week so he told me he was staying in the B&B until then. I offered my sofa for him to sleep on, but he insisted no. I should've told him he must..."

"Oh, his kids were wonderful!" Mr. Tien, who lived a block down from Mr. Sulavan grinned. "Let me see, there's Lacey- she was 12 and Benny he was 6. Wonderful kids. They knew how to make a stunning cup of tea. Well mannered, too. They loved their dad to bits. They were always a bit shy around their mother though, a bit timid. I think that's because she was strict, you know, proper child-rearing woman. She knew how to teach her kids how to behave. But, oh, they looked so bored when their dad wasn't there. I saw them at the funeral, you know. They looked well sad, even a little scared. Poor kids. Not the life I'd have chosen."

By the end of lunch I had pages on pages of notes and ideas and branches, so I ran back to the newspaper room lucking flustered and mildly distressed.

"How did it go?" Jamie stood up immediately and the rest of the group followed. They had all been sat in a circle around the table discussing something. I gave him the black book that was bulging with post-tic notes now and slumped myself on the sofa.

I wiped my eyes, hoping no one would see how puffy they were and how I was about to explode into tears.  They all noticed however, and all turned away.