Read Down Among the Dead Men for Free Online Page B

Charcoal Charlotte. He’ll say you’ve found your inner genius.”
    Ella butted in. “Yeah, and he might say she’s taking the piss and doesn’t deserve to be doing A level art.”
    â€œBet you he doesn’t,” Jem said. “That’s the kind of thing the Gibbon would’ve said—not in those exact words, but the message would be the same.”
    The mention of their former teacher triggered Mel into saying, “Hey, did you know there’s a missing persons bureau and Miss Gibbon is on it? I found her on the website. It gives a date in July when she was last seen.”
    â€œNever! . . . Really?”
    â€œHonest. There’s a picture of her, quite a nice one actually.”
    Ella and Jem had both started navigating their smartphones and, sure enough, there was an official police website showing a photo of Miss Gibbon in a pink top against a background of fruit blossom.
    â€œAlmost human,” Ella said.
    â€œWhat a handle,” Jem said, reading on. “Constance Gloria Gibbon. Thirty-nine? That’s a laugh. She was closer to forty, in my opinion. Who would have reported her missing, do you think? The head?”
    â€œShe must have family. Does it say?”
    â€œJust some number to call. That’ll be the police.”
    â€œWhat if they find her?” Jem said, eyes popping at the thought. “We could lose Tom.”
    â€œShe’ll be in no state to teach again,” Ella said. “Not right away. She’ll need time to get over it. She wouldn’t come back before we’ve all left.”
    â€œWe can hope,” Jem said.
    Any more talk about Miss Gibbon had to be put on hold because one of the other artists joined them. “Right,” she said in a business-like way. “I’m Anastasia. Are you young ladies actually finding this helpful, joining in with us?”
    All three made positive sounds.
    Anastasia was clearly the woman who had been hit by Geraint’s blob of paint, because there was quite a smear of red to the left side of her face, even though she’d wiped most of it away. Good thing her clothes had escaped, because they were of designer quality, a blue and white striped top, tight-fitting jeans and calf-length light brown boots. “The reason I asked is that if it were me looking at all the different styles, I’d just be confused.”
    â€œIt’s what we’re supposed to do for our exam,” Jem said. “Studying different ways of dealing with a subject.”
    â€œAnd responding in our own way,” Ella chimed in.
    â€œGood for you,” Anastasia said. “In my day everyone tried to draw like Holbein and of course we couldn’t and got deeply depressed. The way art is taught now is so much better for one’s self-confidence.”
    â€œIt is if you get a good teacher,” Jem said. “Tom took over this term and we’re improving in leaps and bounds.”
    â€œHe’s a charmer, for sure,” Anastasia said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but he gives amazing parties.”
    â€œWhy shouldn’t you say it?” Mel asked.
    â€œBecause they’re not the kinds of parties schoolgirls attend.”
    â€œWe’re students, not schoolgirls,” Ella said. “We could be at sixth form college. We’ll all be eighteen next year.”
    â€œMy dear, I can see you’re wonderfully mature. In fact, I wouldn’t have dreamed you were still at school if Tom hadn’t mentioned the fact.”
    â€œWhat do you get up to at these parties?” Jem said.
    Anastasia had turned so red that the paint mark barely registered. “Oh, dear, I’m getting into deep water here. Maybe modern schoolgirls—sorry, students—do attend such events, but I doubt whether your headmistress would encourage it. Tom might find himself out of a job.”
    â€œAre they, like, orgies?”
    Anastasia laughed. “If they