Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
a year ago, and that’s when they turned their attention to her. She assures me that it’s okay and not to worry, but it’s not okay. Ever.
I glance at my watch.
Come on. What is he doing?
I can’t believe I fucked him.
I get a vision of Mr. Masters face between my legs, and I just want to gouge my eyes out. How can I stop seeing this shit? What an idiot I am.
I exhale as I feel my underarms heat with perspiration.
“Come on,” I whisper, my leg bouncing harder as my anticipation builds and builds. “What the hell are you doing in there?”
The office door opens, and a man in a grey suit walks out. He’s in his early sixties and very distinguished. He smiles kindly and shakes my hand. “Hello, I’m John Edwards.”
“I’m Brielle, thank you for making time to see me.”
He gestures into his office “Please, come in.” I walk past him and take a seat at his big, fancy desk.
He sits opposite me and links his hands in front of him. “How can I help you today?”
I swallow nervously. “I have some concerns about Willow Masters getting bullied.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry. Are you her parent or guardian?”
I clutch my handbag on my lap with white-knuckle force. “No. Willow’s mother died five years ago in a car accident. I’m her nanny.”
His face falls. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“I overheard a girl from this school say something to her that disturbed me greatly.”
“What was that?”
“She said that Willow’s mother probably killed herself to get away from Willow.”
“Dear God,” he mutters. “When was this?”
“At the weekend.”
He frowns. “In school grounds?”
“No. During football practice, at the playing field.”
His face falls. “Unfortunately we’re unable to do anything about weekend activities.”
“I know. But I wanted to speak to the school counsellor and see if she has noticed anything going on here at school.”
“Yes, of course.” He scribbles a phone number on the back of a business card. “Call that number on Monday morning and make an appointment to see him. He’s very helpful.”
I smile and take the card. “Thank you.” I glance at the name.
Steven Asquith
“I’m sorry I can’t help more, but I will send out an email today to all of her teachers and ask them to call you, if you like?”
“That would be fantastic.” I smile.
"That way we can tackle it at the grassroots level."
“Perfect.”
“Shall I schedule a meeting for this time next week so we can update each other on any of our findings?”
I smile gratefully. “That would be great, thank you. I’m sure you can understand that this is a sensitive issue. I don’t want Willow to suffer any more unnecessary stress.”
“Of course.” We both stand and he shakes my hand. “Have a great weekend and we will meet again next week.”
I head out of the office feeling a little better that we are at least starting to get to the bottom of it, but then I stop dead in my tracks.
The blonde bitch—the one who asked me to buy her coffee, also known as the bully's mother—is behind the reception desk. She's wearing a white dress and black high heel pumps, dolled up like mutton with a full face of makeup. She doesn't see me, and she turns and walks down the corridor in the opposite direction.
I stand for a moment, watching her walk away.
I approach the reception window. “Excuse me, can you please tell me what that woman’s name is?”
The young girl on reception looks around. “I’m sorry, who?”
“The woman in the white dress who was just here.”
“Oh, that’s Tiffany Edwards.”
“What’s she doing here?” I ask, my eyes glued to the back of this Tiffany Edwards.
“What isn’t she doing here?” The girl laughs, and I can tell she’s not into the politics of the school. “She volunteers here.”
“Volunteers?” I ask.
“She practically runs the school.”
“Does she?” I fume.
“Yes.” The girl looks around to see if her colleagues can hear us gossiping. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of her, that’s for sure,” she whispers.
“And why is that?”
“She knows everybody.”
I glare at Tiffany Edwards’ perfect little behind as it disappears, and my blood begins to boil.
“Tell me… where do I sign up to volunteer I ask.
“Really?” The girl winces. She leans forward so she can say something the others won’t hear. “They can be brutal in there.”
I smile sweetly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
I drive down the road when my email pings on my phone. I glance over at it.
From: Julian.
To: Bree.
I narrow my eyes and pull over to park the car. I glance up and see a coffee shop. Before I open the email, I decide to make my way inside. I order a coffee and take a seat, eventually opening the email.
From: Julian.
To: Bree.
Julian Masters
Requests the company of
Bree Johnson
Occasion: Situation inspection.
Date: 31st May
Time: 1pm
Place: Room 612: Rosewood London