September brought change, as always. After doing her best to shunt him to the back of her brain for the summer, Dean was now foremost in Martha's head. She had to find him. There were two entries for D. Finlay in their area's phone book, issued when he was still living with his wife. She didn't call those numbers. When a new edition was released, she looked again. The number for one of the D. Finlays had changed. A new number. Barely containing her excitement, she scribbled it down and dashed out of the house, running to the phone box at the end of the street. A heavy-set woman was in there finishing a call. Martha hopped from foot to foot as she waited for her to put down the receiver, allow the unused coins to drop before taking them one by one and putting them in her purse, double checking that none were left behind. Eventually, she leaned against the door, opening it with a grunt and stepping out onto the footpath. Not a second passed before Martha was inside and putting her phone card in the slot. She held the receiver to her shoulder as she punched in the numbers in her notebook.
Three rings and then an answer. "Hello, David here."
"Sorry, wrong number." She fumbled to replace the handset and fell against the heavy metal door to escape. She called the other D. Finlay just in case, and gently put the receiver down when she heard an old man answer.
The new year at school introduced a new Art teacher. Mr Sangbourne, a tweedy elbow-padded sixty-something with a nicotine-stained beard and foul breath, had taken Dean's place in the classroom. He was everything Dean wasn't, and Martha was out of each class before the bell stopped ringing.
In her school lunch hour, she widened her search at the town library. She transcribed the numbers of all the D. Finlays in the phone books of neighbouring areas. Then she went to the phone box outside the library entrance and called each number in turn, simply disconnecting every time someone answered who wasn't Dean. After a couple of days and phone cards, she had exhausted all the numbers. If Dean was living nearby, there was no number listed for him. She needed to find him some other way.
On Saturdays, Martha had an hour after her café shift ended before she went to meet Amy at the clothes shop. She went back into the library to trawl through the reference section. One librarian had noticed her regular visits and came over. She stood by Martha as she flipped through directories.
After coughing softly, she asked, "Can I help you?"
"Erm, no, it's all right." Martha kept on searching through book after book.
The librarian didn't leave. "I can help you, if you're looking for something in particular."
Martha's shoulders dropped as she turned around. "I'm looking for a directory of teachers. Is there something like that?"
"Oh yes, it's over here." The librarian took her to another shelf and pulled out a thick paperback volume. She looked over Martha's shoulder as she scanned the entries. "They are listed by school at the front, but the back lists them alphabetically by surname."
"Thanks," said Martha, skipping to the back. A stab of recognition in her heart as she saw his name, still listed with her school.
"Did you find it?" said the librarian, clutching her lanyard with expectation.
"No, it's not up to date. Does it come out every year?"
"Oh yes. Actually, we should have a new one now. Hang on a mo." The librarian unlocked the door behind them and Martha heard her opening packages. She came back, holding a new directory aloft as if it were a championship trophy. "It must've come in this morning. Hot off the press. Brand-spanking-new. Here you go."
Martha's hands were sweaty as she flipped through to the back. There was no entry for him. "Dean Finlay BA (Hons) PGCE" had vanished.