A Room Full of Killers, Michael Wood [best books for students to read txt] 📗

held it firmly in her hands. She looked deep into the photograph and wondered what had happened to him. Where was he right now? Was he still alive and living a good life with a couple who couldn’t have kids of their own? Had he been sold to paedophiles and was currently being handed around for sordid pleasure? Or had he been sold so his organs could be used on the black market for transplants?

A tear fell from Matilda’s eye and dropped onto Carl’s.

‘I’m so sorry I failed you,’ she said.

While the kettle boiled in the kitchen Matilda looked in the cupboard for a snack. Like Sian at work, Matilda had created a snack drawer at home for when she felt the need to comfort eat, which was most evenings. It was full of multipack bars of chocolate, packets of biscuits, and bags of crisps. She chose the largest bar of Cadbury Whole Nut she could find, made her tea and headed upstairs.

She stood in the doorway of her library and surveyed what was laid out before her. She really did love this room. She inhaled the smell of new carpet and old books and it brought a smile to her lips. She could understand why Jonathan Harkness had lost himself in the world of fiction. It was an aid to forget life and the horrors of reality for a few hours, to sit back and escape what happened in the real world. Within the pages of these books she could ignore whatever was going on in Starling House and the politics of South Yorkshire Police.

Matilda made herself comfortable in her Eames chair and picked up the Val McDermid hardback. She was over halfway through and loving the highly disturbed Tony Hill and his complex relationship with Carol Jordan. The story was dark and intriguing. She put her feet up, snapped off a few squares of Whole Nut and settled in for a few chapters.

Stuart Mills was a burly man of six foot one. Built like a rugby player he gave the impression of a man to be feared, a man not to be messed with. Beneath the façade he was a gentle giant who would lay down his life for his wife and four kids.

He was sitting on the sofa in the living room of their four-bedroom house in Shiregreen, watching the local news with his youngest son, Gregory, aged eleven. The presenters were talking about the threat of a storm forecast for later in the week.

‘Apparently, they’ve had a month’s worth of rain in twelve hours in Bristol,’ Stuart called out to Sian who was making a cup of tea in the kitchen.

‘Are we going to get a lot of rain, Dad?’ Gregory asked.

‘It looks like it,’

Sian walked into the living room. She cast a glance at Danny studying at the dining table. She had a mug of tea in each had and handed one over to Stuart.

‘Is it going to be as bad as 2007?’ Sian asked remembering the night in June nine years before when she was stranded at work because she couldn’t get home. Meadowhall had been flooded and closed for days. Sian’s sister, Ruth, who lived in Brightside at the time, had to be airlifted from her home. Looking back, it was the best night of Ruth’s life, she’d told Sian. At the time she was petrified.

‘They don’t know yet,’ he replied. ‘Do you think I should get some sandbags for those patio doors? That garden’s on a slant as it is. If it is going to be bad we don’t want water coming in. The carpet’s only been down a few months.’

‘You don’t need sandbags. It’s a storm door.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I knew you weren’t listening to the bloke. Why do you think it cost so much?’

‘There you go, Gregory, it can rain all it wants, we’re going to be safe in here. We might even get airlifted out.’

‘Ah, cool.’ He boy beamed.

‘I’d stay off the KitKats then, Stuart,’ Sian said, nodding at his full stomach. ‘It’s a helicopter they’d be coming in, not a crane.’

Sian turned and went to sit next to Danny at the dining table. He hadn’t taken part in the conversation. His head was down and the pained expression on his face showed he was concentrating hard.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, swiping away some of his long hair that had draped over his face.

‘Maths. I’ve got a mock exam next Wednesday.’

‘How’s it going?’

‘All right.’

‘Is it difficult?’

‘Of course it’s difficult. It’s maths.’

‘Do you need any help?’

‘Nah.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah.’

He didn’t look up once from his studies and just answered his mother’s questions as simply as he could.

‘Danny, I know we’ve always told you school work is important and you need to do well in your exams in order to get a good career, but, if you don’t, it’s not the end of the world, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘I don’t want you to think you’re under a lot of pressure to get a good grade. You’re studying hard, that’s the main thing. Whatever mark you get I’ll be proud of you.’

This made Danny look up. ‘You’ve changed your tune. At the beginning of the year you were telling me how important this year is for me and not to mess around.’

‘I know I did and it is an important year. It’s just … ’ she struggled to find the words. ‘It’s not … if you don’t pass or you don’t get the grades you want I don’t want you to get too downhearted. There are more important things in life, OK?’

Danny looked on with a perplexed expression. ‘OK’ he replied, confused.

‘Good. I’m here for you too if you ever need to talk. About anything. We both are. Me and your dad,’ she looked over at Stuart, who was having a competition with Gregory to see if they could fit a KitKat vertically into their mouths without it breaking. ‘Well, maybe just me.’ She smiled.

Since breaking up with Amelia, Rory Fleming had