questions and responses. Donna had attended enough safeguarding training over the years to be well aware that everybody on the school site should be accounted for and any visitor was required to sign in at reception. But there were gaps in the boundary – a footpath that ran along one side of a farmer’s field was only separated from school property by a low wire fence and the football field was only separated from the farmer’s crop by a hawthorn hedge. There was no spare money in the budget to improve the fencing, so students sometimes took advantage of the short cuts the holes offered.

The figures were moving quickly towards the outlying block of classrooms occupied by the history and geography departments, striding across the football pitch as though they had every right to be there. Donna knew that she might be the only one who had seen them: her room was at the end of the block with a rarely used computer room above it. All the other rooms faced north or west.

Trembling hands hovered over her keyboard as she tried to formulate an appropriate message without conveying any sense of urgency or alarm to her students. She risked another glance at the field. They were male adults judging by their size and stature, four of them, all moving quickly, all wearing ski masks. As the nearest one approached the side of the building, Donna was horrified to see that he appeared to be carrying some kind of machine gun. Was she imagining things? Was this part of some role-play that the drama department had organised? Or was it a drill – designed to test the resilience and reactions of school staff? Donna had no idea, but she knew that she had to act quickly.

The email might not be read until it was too late. Reception was always busy for the first half hour of the day with calls from parents and so there was no guarantee that there would be an urgent response. Donna scanned the classroom. Keely was sitting closest to her. If she could get the girl to leave now, she could cut through the geography room next door and go out the front of the building.

‘Keely?’

The girl looked up as the bell rang and the others got to their feet.

‘Miss?’

Donna scribbled a note. ‘Take this to reception. Go through G8 and use the front door. Quick as you can.’

The girl shrugged her school bag onto one shoulder and disappeared through the door into the next room as the others started to file towards the main door of the classroom.

‘No,’ Donna snapped. ‘Stay.’

‘But the bell’s gone, Miss Frith.’

‘I know. I just need you to stay put for a few minutes.’

Harley looked like he was about to say something but then pulled out a chair and sat back down. As though taking his actions as their cue, the others started to do the same.

Donna didn’t know what to say. She knew that they could all be in jeopardy but to risk them leaving the room and encountering a group of armed men seemed more dangerous than keeping them here. Should she tell them to get under the desks? Or line up against the wall where they couldn’t be seen if a gunman peered casually through the glass in the door? She didn’t know.

She’d heard about schools in the USA where they had shooter drills, practising for just this kind of situation but nobody in the UK expected it to happen.

‘Guys. I think there might be an incident,’ she began, aware of the trembling in her voice. ‘I’m not sure but I think that there may be intruders on the school site.’

A rush of questions and confusion – the opposite of what Donna wanted. ‘Shut up, all of you!’ she yelled. ‘We need to keep quiet and stay where we are. It might be an idea to line up against that wall.’ She pointed to where she wanted the students to assemble.

‘Miss. Lock the door,’ Jess Moffatt suggested urgently.

Donna started to pull out the drawers in her desk. She hardly ever used her master key because the students could be trusted to spend break and lunch time in the classrooms. Where the hell was it?

She leaned down for a better look, hands shifting frantically through pens, pencils and assorted scraps of paper. The key was nestling in the back corner behind a pencil sharpener and a board marker. Donna let out the breath that she’d been holding and straightened up.

‘Good idea,’ she said to the girl, with the most normal smile that she could manage.

She’d only taken two steps away from her desk when the door was thrown open and her worst fears were realised. Framed in the entrance was a dark figure dressed in black, army-style fatigues. Donna noted the buckles and pockets and webbing, her brain distracting itself from the real threat, the real danger.

Two girls screamed as the man took a step inside the room and another, almost identical, figure materialised at his back as though he were regenerating.

‘All of you, stay still,’ the first man said, raising his gun to shoulder level and fixing the barrel on Donna. ‘And shut up.’

He turned to his companion. ‘Get the key off her and lock the door.’

The other dark figure did exactly as instructed.

‘You. Teacher. Sit down.’

Donna sank into her seat, eyes glued to the gun, barely noticing when the second man came up behind her, reached over and slammed her laptop shut.

‘Hands where I can see them. If any one of you tries to do anything stupid, I’ll kill you all.’

Suppressed whimpers from the students as they all put their hands palms down on the desks.

‘Good. Right. My associate is going to come round and collect all your phones before anybody tries to be a hero.’

He turned to Donna and she could see the smile in his pale blue eyes.

‘Then we’re all going to have a nice chat.’

2

Cam Cleaver took another swig from the mug

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