A Lie For A Lie

by Julie Corbin

Genres: Medical Thrillers

Synopsis

*The next gripping suspense thriller from Julie Corbin, Whispers of a Scandal, is available to pre-order now!*

Teacher versus pupil.
It's your word against hers . . .

As a school nurse, Anna Pierce is a well-respected and trusted member of the community. So when she is accused of hitting a pupil, the reaction is one of shock and disbelief.

The pupil is Tori Carmichael - Anna's mentee and a troubled child known for bending the truth.

With her career and reputation on the line, Anna is determined to clear her name. But before she can, the worst happens: Tori is found dead.

Suspicion mounts against Anna, who says she didn't do it.

But if she isn't the killer, there is someone out there who is . . .

Delivering a dark and twisting plot and asking the reader 'What would you do?', this is gripping suspense for fans of Big Little Lies and The Rumour.

Readers are gripped by A Lie For A Lie


'Full of secrets, twists, and unexpected answers. I was hooked.'

'Absolutely amazing book! It was the perfect thriller!'

'I cannot recommend it highly enough - a fabulous read.'

'An extremely well written, utterly riveting thriller that had me totally captivated from the very first page.

'A gripping tale of deception, manipulation and judgements that keeps the reader guessing and frantically turning the pages.'

'Julie Corbin works her magic . . . I was gripped by every single page.'

'I'll definitely be recommending it to my other book lover friends. Can't wait to read more by Julie Corbin!'

'A gripping story from the very beginning. Julie Corbin is a new author to add to my "favourite authors" list.'

Release date: October 15, 2020

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 336

Sample

It begins with a phone call from the headmaster’s secretary. ‘Mr Wiseman would like a word.’

‘Did he mention a time?’ Anna asks, phone in one hand, bloody gauze swab in the other.

‘Immediately,’ she tells her. ‘That’s what he said. Ask Sister Pierce to come and see me at once.’

‘Okay.’ Anna glances at the boy on the examination bed: Angus Rutherford, sent up from the pitches after colliding with a classmate. ‘I’ll finish up here and come straight across.’ She returns the phone to its cradle and takes a closer look at the cut on Angus’s head. She feels around the wound and pulls the skin together before holding the edges in place with wound closures that are almost immediately soaked in blood. ‘This needs to be stitched.’

‘Will I have to go to hospital?’ Angus asks. He is a gentle boy who becomes a tiger when he plays sport; it’s not the first time Anna has had to patch him up.

‘I’m afraid so.’ She wraps a dressing bandage around his head from the base of his skull to just above his eyes. ‘Tell me if it’s too tight.’

‘Will I be able to play on Saturday?’

‘No contact for at least three weeks, possibly more.’

His whole body slumps. ‘Sir will go nuts.’

Anna soaks a cloth in hot water and wipes away the blood drying in patches on his cheek. ‘It’s just one of those things, Angus,’ she says. ‘Happens to all the best players.’ She removes her gloves and drops them into the bin. ‘I know it’s upsetting but at least you don’t have a serious concussion or you could be out for the whole season.’ She helps him off the surgery bed. ‘Have a seat in the waiting room and I’ll ask Nurse Whitlock to organise your trip to hospital.’

He hobbles towards the door, his hand resting protectively on the head bandage. He’s almost over the threshold when he looks back and says, ‘Thank you, Sister Pierce.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She smiles, feels it fix on her face as she breathes in. She holds the air in her lungs for a few seconds and allows herself to think about why the head wants to see her. She’s known Owen Wiseman for almost two decades. They sing in the same choir and have children of similar ages, but she rarely speaks to him about work. Owen normally stays out of the day-to-day running of the school. He’s more concerned with pupil numbers and budgets, governors meetings and child safeguarding.

It must be something serious otherwise he would catch her when their paths crossed in the corridor or at choir practice.

She goes to find Geraldine Whitlock, who is standing in front of the whiteboard in the office planning the HPV vaccination schedule. Her list of names is written in small, neat handwriting with arrows and asterisks in contrasting colours; woe betide anyone who messes with her system.

Anna tells her about Angus, and then, ‘Owen’s asked to see me. Hopefully I won’t be long.’

Geraldine gives an audible sigh. She’s close to retirement and by her own admission has had enough of increasingly demanding parents and antisocial shift work.

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ Anna says.

Geraldine nods acceptance and Anna leaves her to it, knowing full well that if any children do appear they won’t linger if they see Nurse Whitlock’s on duty. Short shrift is her prescription for most things.

Anna shields her eyes as she comes out into the late September sunshine. The sky is a wispy blend of blue and white, and a welcome breeze blows up from the coast. The medical centre sits at the western edge of the school campus, close to the playing fields and the boarding houses, and more than one hundred metres from the clutch of buildings that make up the main school. She walks up the hill, passes the pre-prep and nursery on her left, and the chapel on her right, the latter a grand building, more cathedral than chapel.

The head’s study is on the far side of the lower quad, in the main building, which was originally a twelfth-century monastery. She takes a short cut through a concealed door off the quad into the oak-panelled hall then up the stairs to the waiting area outside his office. His secretary glances up at her but doesn’t smile. Anna doesn’t take it personally; she rarely smiles. ‘He’s on a call with one of the governors,’ she says. ‘Have a seat. He shouldn’t be long.’

Anna sits on the plush sofa opposite the window. ‘Do you know why he wants to see me?’ she asks.

‘He requested the minutes from the pastoral care meeting,’ his secretary tells her. ‘Might be something to do with that.’

‘Right.’

Thursdays always begin with the pastoral care meeting, three of them gathered in the deputy head’s study: Anna, Lynn Sykes, head of pastoral care, and Peter Williams, the deputy headmaster. That morning they discussed the children they were concerned about – a bereaved child in Year Five, a child who was suspended after he was caught smoking, another child, and another, until ‘Victoria Carmichael,’ Peter said, looking at Lynn. ‘You wanted to flag her up?’

‘She’s made a poor start to this term. We’re only a few weeks in and she’s already been in trouble half a dozen times or more. Last week she was in Saturday detention but almost immediately afterwards was caught stealing another girl’s make-up.’

Lynn and Peter discussed her lack of focus and questioned whether her home life had worsened but Anna didn’t comment. She should have, she realises as she sits outside the head’s office, because she has a feeling that this is the reason she’s been called in. She’s also worried about Victoria – Tori as she’s mostly called – but she didn’t add to her colleagues’ comments because she felt enough was said and, anyway, her concern has been minuted on many previous occasions.

Now she’s wondering whether she has made an error of judgement.

The door opens and Owen glances out. ‘Anna.’ He waves her inside his study and towards a seat. ‘Thank you for coming across.’

‘No problem.’ She sits down in front of his desk and watches as he removes his jacket before taking his seat opposite her. She thinks he might mention the piece they’re singing for choir this term – Bach’s Mass in B minor, an ambitious piece that’s challenging all their voices – or the fact that both their sons are in their first year at the University of Glasgow studying engineering.

He doesn’t. ‘I’ll get straight to the point.’ He rests his elbows on the desk. ‘It’s about Victoria Carmichael.’

He pauses and Anna senses him trying to read her expression. Anxious about what’s to follow, she says, ‘I did wonder if she was the reason you’d asked to see me. I know I didn’t raise any concerns at the meeting this morning. I should have,’ she acknowledges. ‘But I felt Lynn and Peter were thorough in what they said.’

‘What should you have raised?’ he asks, his tone interested.

‘Well … I’m also concerned about Tori. She’s been difficult with me lately, didn’t show up for our mentor’s meeting last week, was ten minutes late for my SRE lesson.’ She rocks forward in her seat. ‘And she’s been visiting the medical centre more than she normally would. She was upset yesterday afternoon when I wouldn’t put her off swimming.’ She feels a tremor begin in her thighs and she crosses her legs to smother it. ‘She is okay, isn’t she? She hasn’t hurt herself or anything? Please tell me she hasn’t?’

Owen understands where her thoughts are headed. ‘No, no.’ He shakes his head. ‘She’s not hurt herself. That’s not why you’re here.’

Anna lets out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God! I was beginning to really worry.’ She’s spent her whole career caring for children and it would be her worst nightmare if anything were to happen to one of them. ‘Thank God,’ she repeats, shaking her head against the horror of it.

‘So she visited the medical centre when you were on duty yesterday?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you write an account of her visit?’

‘I did. As I do with every child who steps through the door.’

He pushes his laptop across the desk towards her. ‘Could you show me the entry, please?’

She logs herself onto the system and quickly accesses the medical files, an area closed to all staff members apart from the four registered nurses. She clicks on Victoria’s file and then on the last entry: 24-09-19, 14.35. She turns the screen round so that Owen is able to see it. ‘There’s nothing confidential in this entry,’ she says.

He reads aloud: ‘Victoria wanted to be excused from swimming. I asked her why and she said, “Because I can’t be arsed.” I explained that this wasn’t a valid reason, that she was timetabled for swimming club and that with a positive attitude she might even enjoy it. She then told me it irritated her eczema. (She has never been diagnosed with eczema.) I asked her if she wanted to show me her skin but she told me it was none of my business. I suggested she speak with Mr Groom re swimming, as she had in fact signed up for the club. She told me she didn’t like him. I asked her if she wanted me to speak to him and she said no. I then asked her if there was anything else I could help her with and she said, “There’s no point. You’re as much use as a chocolate fireguard.” She left the surgery. I will catch up with her at supper to make sure she’s in a better frame of mind. Anna Pierce.’ He glances up from the screen. ‘Did you catch up with her at supper?’

‘I saw her but didn’t speak to her. She was sitting with Pippa, Hester and Isobel.’

Tori barely ate anything at supper. The email from her dad was burning a hole in her pocket. She glanced around the room, her eyes searching for Sister Pierce, but she couldn’t see her. And there was no one else for her to talk to. The girls were making it obvious they didn’t want her around. ‘You need to stop stealing,’ Isobel told her. ‘How many chances do we have to give you?’

‘I didn’t steal your make-up, Hester,’ she said.

The three girls looked at one another, eyes rolling, faces hardening.

‘And she didn’t visit you again later that evening?’

‘Not exactly.’ Anna explained she was busy after supper because the mother of one of the junior girls had come to her for advice. Her daughter was off sick but she had bundled her into the car when she came to pick up her son. A day child, so strictly speaking not Anna’s responsibility, but she had a raging fever and the beginnings of a rash. Anna took one look at her and immediately called an ambulance. ‘While I was on the phone, Tori was in the waiting room but she could see I was busy. We didn’t speak.’

Owen sits back in his seat and gives an audible sigh. ‘Anna, there’s no easy way to say this.’ He clears his throat, clearly reluctant to voice the words. ‘Victoria has accused you of assault.’

Anna’s mouth falls open; the blood drains from her cheeks.

‘She told me that she came to see you yesterday evening, sometime after supper,’ Owen continues. ‘And that’s when you hit her.’

Anna shivers. ‘I – I didn’t!’ Her eyes are filling now. She blinks away the tears, embarrassed and confused. ‘I don’t …’ White noise echoes inside her skull; her whole body is quaking, shaking. She stares down at her feet, tapping on the wooden floor as if being directed by a crazed puppeteer. ‘I …’ She crosses and re-crosses her legs, uses her hands to press down hard on her thighs. ‘I – I didn’t.’

‘I’m sorry, Anna.’ His expression is sympathetic. ‘I can see this has come as a shock to you.’

Anna suppresses the urge to shout out – A shock? A shock? You think? She gets quickly to her feet and walks across to the window, clutches the sill with both hands. S2 boys push and shove their way out of the door directly below her and run across the gravel to reach the newly mown grass, the crunch of their boots sending gravel sparks up from their heels. Her eyes follow them as they race towards the regiment of beech trees that underline the school’s perimeter. And then they begin to throw rugby balls backward and forward between pairs.

Although her eyes are watching, she doesn’t see them. Her attention is taken up with the battle inside her. She is trembling, her teeth chatter, her limbs pulse. An electrical live-wire courses through her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. She wants to run, out of the room, through the woods, back to her house, seek the warmth of the familiar, the comfort of home, because an accusation like this is serious. Colleagues have lost their jobs for less.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

She turns back to Owen. ‘What did she say exactly?’

He holds her eyes. ‘She said that you were angry with her and that you raised your hand—’

‘I was angry?’ She’s frowning. She blinks several times. ‘About what? When am I ever angry?’

‘I asked her what had made you angry but she wouldn’t tell me.’

‘That’s because it’s a bare-faced lie!’

‘I understand your frustration, Anna.’ He sighs. ‘But as you know, we have to take all allegations of assault seriously.’

Owen is not only the head teacher but also the safeguarding lead and while he is legally required to remain impartial, his eyes are kind and it allows Anna to relax. Just a little. ‘Have you informed …’ She falters.

‘I have informed social services,’ he confirms.

‘What will …?’

‘The allegation will most likely be handed over to the police.’

‘Will I be charged?’ she asks, her voice barely audible.

‘I don’t know.’

‘And in the meantime?’ A rising panic empties into her throat. Panic tinged with hysteria because God knows she’s done everything she can for this girl. Everything. And to say that she hit her? ‘I’ve never hit a child,’ she tells Owen. ‘I’ve never slapped a child. Or pushed a child. I’ve barely even shouted at a child, and that includes my own. Even Noah, who was very naughty at times and would climb on everything, raid the fridge, went through a phase of hiding his grandad’s glasses. He thought it was funny. And sometimes—’ She stops, stares up at the ceiling: at the chandelier that was gifted by parents after their four children achieved better grades than they thought they would, spent their years at Bishopglen happy and loved. Yes, loved. Because it would be impossible in a job like hers not to grow fond of children, not to go the extra mile, not to support them through the ups and downs of their child and teenage years and be proud when they left the school confident in themselves and their abilities. ‘More than twenty years,’ Anna says. ‘And to my knowledge not one complaint has been raised against me.’ Owen affirms this with a nod of his head. ‘And Tori?’ She frowns, disbelieving. ‘How? Why?’

‘I really don’t know, Anna.’

They both leave unsaid the fact that Victoria Carmichael has been in trouble on and off since she arrived at the school. She is on a full scholarship, and while she is academically gifted, she has struggled socially, despite all the supportive measures that have been put in place.

‘Fuck.’ Anna swears under her breath. ‘I should have seen something like this coming. And I should have spoken up at the meeting this morning.’

‘It wouldn’t have changed anything.’

‘I know but …’ She shakes her head against her own stupidity. ‘I’ve been barking up the wrong tree. She’s been really down this term and I was worried that she might begin self-harming. I spoke to Sadie about it last week.’ Sadie Taymere is the senior girls’ housemistress and six evenings a week she chivvies them into bed. ‘I thought Tori was more likely to harm herself than lash out at anyone else.’ Anna swallows the lump in her throat. ‘Lash out against me.’

‘Did you write an account of your conversation with Sadie?’

‘Yes.’ Anna knows the importance of a paper trail: If it’s not written down then it didn’t happen. She has this notice pinned up inside the surgery cupboard, an unequivocal reminder to all the nursing staff. ‘Sadie felt that Tori was quieter than normal, more likely to take refuge in her room than spend time in the common room. But there was nothing she could put her finger on.’

‘Could we make a guess as to what might be worrying her?’

‘Her parents’ divorce is one of the most acrimonious I’ve come across and Tori is stuck in the middle. She hasn’t seen her dad for a while now.’ Anna pauses to remember a recent mentor’s meeting with Tori.

‘My dad’s related to the royal family,’ Tori said to Anna. ‘You wouldn’t think it. Although the royal family are really messed up so maybe you would think it. That’s why I’m called Victoria. I mean, we’re several cousins removed and not rich or anything.’ She stopped to take a breath. ‘I just wish he would come and see me when he says he will.’ She stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. ‘He’s living with another woman now.’ She bit her lip. ‘And she has a daughter.’

Anna leaned forward to hold Tori’s hands. ‘Your dad loves you, Tori. I’m sure of that.’ Tori’s eyes met hers, wanting to believe. ‘How about you send him a letter or an email explaining how you feel?’

‘Maybe,’ she said, unconvinced.

‘We can work on it together if you like,’ Anna said.

Anna knows how this marriage breakdown story goes: it begins with arguments, recriminations and disappointments. Then the father leaves the mother and daughter to set up home elsewhere. The weekend visits lapse because it takes willingness and effort to keep them going. The dad meets a woman. He moves in with the woman. The woman has a daughter the same age. The man’s own daughter, his flesh and blood, is replaced.

Tori’s vulnerabilities had once been Anna’s and she hasn’t had to work hard to imagine Tori’s home life. She guesses that’s why Tori chose her as a mentor. Although Anna had never told Tori about her own upbringing, in Anna’s experience, recognising someone who ‘gets’ you is an instinctive pull.

Owen is talking and Anna tries to focus on what he’s saying. She hears him tell her that he has sent Tori home and that Anna will also need to stay at home until the police have reported back to him. He wants her to know that she has his support, that there is no presumption of guilt, but that the system, for obvious reasons, must believe the child. He will speak to the other nurses and ensure that in her absence the medical centre is run to the same high standards. ‘Rest assured that this matter is confidential. I won’t be referring to it in staff briefings. You will be taking a leave of absence for reasons that need not be disclosed.’

But Tori, Anna thinks. Will she tell the other girls? If so, it will be round the senior girls, the whole school, in no time. Isobel will be one of the first to hear about it. How will she cope with her mum off work because she is under investigation for child abuse?

‘I suggest you collect your things,’ Owen says quietly.

‘I can’t finish my shift?’ she asks. ‘One of the boys hurt himself earlier today and is on his way to hospital. I’d like to follow through on his care.’

‘Geraldine is also on duty, isn’t she?’ Owen says.

Anna nods. ‘Yes, but—’

‘I’ll speak to her,’ Owen says. ‘Please don’t worry about the medical centre. I will make it my business to keep a close eye.’

‘It’s my department, Owen,’ she says. ‘Mine. It doesn’t run itself. Geraldine is counting down the days to her retirement; Ali and Sheila have young families. It’s not fair to load responsibility onto their shoulders.’

‘If necessary I’ll contact a nursing agency.’ He stands up. ‘But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This could all be wrapped up in double-quick time. When Victoria has a moment to reflect …?’ He raises both hands, palms upwards. ‘Who knows?’ He walks Anna to the door. ‘You know how much I respect you, Anna,’ he says, his eyes catching hers. She sees focus and strength and something else – a look that speaks of their friendship. Twenty years of knowing each other, thousands of days and a wealth of experience to draw upon. ‘Hang on in there.’

Her legs don’t belong to her. Her feet move automatically but awkwardly as if there is resistance from the stair carpet, the wooden floorboards in the main hall, the tarmacked road outside. Her feet keep moving and her body stays upright as she retraces her steps back to the medical centre. She smiles distractedly at the wriggly, giggly line of pre-preppers who are leaving for the day. One of the mothers stops Anna with a hand to her elbow. ‘Sister Pierce! Phoebe was telling me that you did a teeth-cleaning session with them yesterday. She was very quick to correct me last night when we didn’t clean them well enough.’

‘That’s great.’ Anna stares down at Phoebe, who is jumping from one foot to the other, a lolly wedged in the corner of her mouth.

‘It’s sugar-free,’ her mother blurts out quickly, sensing Anna’s thoughts.

Sensing them wrongly, as it happens, because Anna isn’t thinking anything of the sort. Her mind is frozen in a loop of disbelief. What the hell has just taken place? Could she really have been suspended for suspected child abuse? Really? Really?

She continues walking, keeping her head down as she listens to her mind race: What has Tori said? What flight of twisted imagination has taken possession of her? Will she be believed? Could Anna lose her job over this?

Thankfully there are no children in the waiting area. She almost pushes open the door to the office but at the last second she hears Geraldine on the phone. ‘Yes, Mr Wiseman.’ A pause. A sigh. Another sigh. And then a reluctant admission. ‘I think I’ll be able to cover that shift.’

Anna moves away from the office and into the surgery. She needs time out, to close her eyes for a minute, and hope that when she opens them again this will all have been a dream. She goes to collapse onto the examination couch but sees it’s already taken – Lynn has her feet up, backrest raised, and is reading a magazine.

‘There you are!’ She smiles. ‘I’m hanging around because I’m taking Lois for a dental appointment but she’s not ready yet and I’m damned if I’m going to wait outside the classroom for Madame Courtois to tell me that she’s not working hard enough at her French.’ She tosses the magazine to one side. ‘My other option was to wait in the car but Julia Raeburn was heading my way and she had that look on her face. I expect she’s canvassing for a teacher to be fired or caviar for the children’s supper.’ Her eyes narrow as she focuses on Anna. ‘Are you okay?’ Her expression softens. ‘You’re very pale.’

Anna is unable to reply. She stands, mute and vulnerable, her chin dropping towards her chest.

Lynn jumps up and leads Anna by the shoulders. ‘Easy does it,’ she says. ‘Lie back on the couch.’

John always describes Lynn as a law unto herself but as Anna closes her eyes she knows that there is no one else she’d rather have bumped into. Like Anna, she has dual roles in the school, both as a parent and an employee, part-time in her case. She’s fearless, funny and entirely focused when she needs to be. She’s Anna’s closest colleague and best friend.

‘Take this.’ She passes Anna a glass of water. ‘Sip it slowly. It might make you feel better.’

Anna drinks tentatively, feels the dizzy sickness in her head begin to clear and is close to confiding in Lynn when there’s a knock on the door.

Geraldine’s head appears. ‘Mr Wiseman’s just been on the phone.’ She sighs. ‘Now I have to go and see him.’ She glances at Anna and then away again as if she doesn’t like what she sees. ‘He tells me you’re going home.’ She sniffs. ‘I’ll take the walkie-talkie with me in case you leave before I get back.’ She pulls her head away. ‘I hope it’s nothing serious,’ she adds, her concern a reluctant afterthought.

‘How that woman is a nurse,’ Lynn grinds out, ‘is a mystery to all of us. I have more compassion in my little finger than she has in her whole body.’

‘She’s been whittled away by the years,’ Anna says, before adding slowly, ‘And … she doesn’t know what’s going on with me.’

‘Has something happened?’ Lynn asks. Her tone is gentle and Anna’s eyes fill for the second time. ‘Is it Noah? Isobel? John?’

‘No.’ Anna reaches for a box of tissues, grabs a handful and holds them against her eyes, press. . .