Thief! Read Free Page B

lead the way to his office but instead turned right. Lydia wondered where they were going. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The girls’ cloakroom. Lydia had to trot to keep up with Mr Simmers’ long stride. Once inside, they turned down the second aisle to the left of the cloakroom doors and Lydia saw Mrs Irving and Mr Balding the caretaker ahead. The cloakroom was almost steaming with warm, damp coats hanging on coat hooks up and down its aisles. At last Mr Simmers came to an abrupt halt.
    The headmaster and Mr Balding looked at each other. Mr Balding nodded almost imperceptibly.
    ‘Lydia Henson, is this your locker?’ Mr Simmers pointed to the locker in front of him but his eyes never left Lydia’s face.
    Lydia tried to speak but the words got lost in her throat. She swallowed, then tried again.
    ‘Yes, sir.’ The words came out as a frightened squeal.
    ‘Open it,’ Mr Simmers ordered.
    Lydia looked at all three of the grown-ups before looking at her locker. They all looked poised, as if one false move on her part and they would pounce, tearing her to pieces. Lydia’s heart pummelled her ribs. What was wrong? What was going on?
    Wiping her clammy hands on her skirt, she walked forward. She reached out to the combination lock on her locker door before realizing that the locker door was shut but not locked.
    ‘It’s open,’ she said, surprised.
    ‘Mr Balding has been opening all the lockers in here and in the boys’ cloakroom on my instructions,’ said Mr Simmers. ‘I had reason to believe that the sports cup would still be on the school premises.’
    Lydia stared from her locker to Mr Simmers’ stony face and back again. Her eyes widened to their absolute limits.
    ‘I don’t have it. I don’t have the cup,’ she said, aghast.
    ‘Open your locker, Lydia,’ Mr Simmers repeated grimly.
    Lydia slowly reached out for the door handle. It was cool beneath her fingertips. She swallowed hard. She could hear Mr Balding wheezing in the background. The sound came from far away. She had to strain to hear it. Immediately around her was silence. A sudden sound, like bucketfuls of gravel being thrown onto the flat roof of the girls’ cloakroom, made Lydia jump. Outside, the rain, which had been bad enough before, was now tipping down. A smell like damp towels came from all the coats. Lydia’s mouth was dry. Her palms were clammy. She grasped the locker handle and pulled it open. A glint of silver dazzled her. It took a few moments for Lydia to focus. And there, in front of her PE kit and her scarf and gloves – was the sports cup.

Chapter Four

Believe Me
    ‘I didn’t put it there, sir. I don’t know how it got there,’ Lydia said, astounded.
    ‘Lydia, I’m deeply disappointed in you,’ said Mr Simmers, shaking his head.
    ‘But I didn’t do it. I didn’t steal the sports cup. You’ve got to believe me . . .’
    ‘Then what’s it doing in your locker?’
    ‘I . . . I don’t know, sir.’
    Mr Simmers shook his head again. ‘Thank you Mrs Irving, Mr Balding. That will be all.’
    The caretaker and the history teacher each gave Lydia a grim look before walking past her without saying a word.
    ‘I didn’t take the cup, sir. I swear I didn’t,’ Lydia said again.
    ‘Have you told the combination number of your locker to anyone else?’ asked Mr Simmers.
    Reluctantly, Lydia shook her head. If only she had!
    ‘Could someone else have memorized the number while you were opening it?’ asked Mr Simmers.
    Lydia racked her brains. She always cupped her left hand over her right when she was opening her locker just so that no one would see her number.
    ‘I don’t think so, sir,’ she whispered at last.
    ‘Then I fail to see how the cup could have got into your locker, if you didn’t put it there and no one else could have put it there,’ Mr Simmers frowned. ‘If this was some kind of foolish prank, Lydia, then I have to tell you, I’m not amused. Now I don’t believe you meant to