Voices spoke in unison from behind the curtain. ‘No, Mrs Walmsley.’ It was either cute or creepy, depending on what mood you were in. The latter, Jo decided.
‘Lauren’s just gone to find our music teacher, Mrs Ellis. So please, make yourself comfortable. And in just a few moments we’ll hear some wonderful music from some wonderful children.’
‘Your mate is so in the shit,’ Lee whispered.
‘Shhhh.’ She looked over at the corridor, hoping to see Steph trotting toward the door. But Lauren was already coming back. Alone. She pushed through the doors, panting, and held up the key.
Walmsley beamed. ‘Stop the clock! Kazoo’s are coming.’
The invisible kids cheered into the curtain.
Where the hell is she? Jo checked her phone for a message. Nothing.
‘Maybe she’s ill?’ Lee said. ‘Or her kid’s ill, maybe?’
Jo didn’t speak. She was too busy watching Lauren walk to the store cupboard door. Then even before the key was fully in the lock, Jo stood up because something was prickling her skin and telling her to move.
‘Er … what are you doing?’ Lee whispered.
She took a step forward. A few of the parents looked up at her, frowning. Where’s the bright fat yellow one off to? Is she doing the clown dance at this show? Is that why she’s dressed like a moron?
‘Jo?’ Lee grabbed the corner of her fleece. Embarrassed. ‘Sit down.’
‘Something’s wrong.’
Another step.
Then another, pushing herself though the confused parents. She moved toward the two teachers who now had their backs to the crowd. They were reaching for the cupboard handle. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was moving, only that she was and that she ought to. She also knew not to look at the wall behind her, where all those upturned animal eyes were watching her.
Could she hear them? Snuffling, snarling, sniffing?
Especially the hare.
She had a sudden flicker of memory. Her and the girls again. Teenagers now and as tight a gang as ever. Laughing by Kelsey Pond in the park. Rating the boys in their class out of ten and chucking pebbles in the water. Counting the ripples while Holly stood looking at them through the branches of the big tree. Wanting to play. Always wanting that.
Then the memory vanished because an animal was growling loudly. And this time it was real.
It was just as the door swung open. The parents behind her had probably assumed the sound was just a creaky hinge. But she knew straight away that it was a living, breathing creature.
Then there was another noise that drowned the growl out.
Mrs Walmsley screamed.
Jo’s first thought was, Wow. That’s really high-pitched. How crazy that sounded, given where they were. You go into a primary school and you kind of expect to hear kids screaming now and again. But not the teachers. Never the teachers. Walmsley sounded like a mad woman in a tower, wailing at the sea. But then it didn’t really matter any more, because lots of people were screaming now, scrambling over each other in a bundle of floundering limbs. Benches scraped and toppled over. Some flew for the exit. Selfish gits.
While the more heroic ones leapt toward the stage to grab the children behind the curtain. The kids were squealing and crying themselves now, spilling out of the gaps to see what was making the grown-ups roar.
In the commotion it seemed like Jo was the only one in the room who was rushing toward the opening cupboard door. The only one who got a good look at poor Lauren, who was now stumbling backwards from it in a mad, skittish dance. Her arms and fingers grasped at the air as she fell backwards from the growling thing.
Jo saw it, just then.
Just as the skinny calf of Lauren’s leg slammed into the front bench. Just as Lauren buckled and started to drop to the floor with a gasp. When her head dropped down like a tonne weight and replacing it was a huge black shape that lurched out from the cupboard. It sprang up on Lauren’s chest and the stage exploded with kids screaming. So much noise.
And there it was, pinning Lauren to the bench.
A huge black animal, that Jo thought might not be an animal at all, but some sort of man who might spring up on its hind legs at any moment. But no, it was an animal. In fact, it was a dog. A dog that she knew. It was Steph Ellis’s Labrador, Samson. Growling at first and squinting a lot, like it had only just discovered light. At one point it looked up at the ceiling, and the fluorescent strip lights picked up its muzzle, caked with blood. Blood that looked dry. The side of its stomach was pulsing in and out as it panted frantically. Then it was startled by a scream and it jerked its head down to find the source. It nuzzled into Lauren’s neck, digging it’s teeth in so it could dig the sound out. Jo saw fresh, thin-looking blood squirting across the floor.
Oh, God. That girl.
Jo lurched forward to help, but quickly felt a heavy hand grab her shoulder to yank her back. It was Lee and a few of the other parents. The guy in the suit and his maths whizz wife. They were gripping small metal chairs in their hands, hunched over like gorillas. Lauren yelled out for help in a muffled, underwater voice and within seconds the growling stopped. Instead the classroom was filled with horrible thuds and wet squelches as Lee and the other parents hammered the crazed dog into oblivion. Lauren cowered and sobbed silently, under them. Her little frame jerked with the blows as the dog finally slid off. Parents frantically tried to close the curtains. Others tried to cover the kids’ eyes, but they only had so
