Miss Pemberton’s Drawers
Owen whistled as he worked. He wasn’t sounding a particular tune—he was just making a noise, really, to mask the silence. This was the first time the children had been off since he’d started work in the school, so he was used to constant din in the building. Even during lessons he’d always been able to hear the murmur of voices from classrooms, toilets flushing and someone’s footsteps as they click-clacked down a lonely corridor. But now, there was nothing, except for the occasional groans and creaks one always hears in a building.
It was eerie. As an ex-army private, he’d always had a pretty noisy workplace—some times more than others. But, he reminded himself, that was why he was here. He’d been injured in active service, and although it wasn’t bad enough—thank
