Well then, Rod Eaves has just been to make small talk with me. That's a curious notion, I have to say: Mr Accountancy, the man with no emotion, no soul, no reason for living as far as I can see. He's been coming to me every day since this started, which is why I have him as Suspect No 1, but it's always been work related. Today was just a gossip. Talking about Tracey in his team, who is not the sharpest pencil in the tray, by all accounts. Apparently, Rod told her to invoice Stanfeld's for £5000 and she ended up sending them a cheque for that amount instead. I bet Stanfeld's will use us again: we do work for them and then pay them for it 3;

"It's a wonder her mummy lets her out alone," Rod reckons 3; :-)

But curious he should come round and tell me about it. I need to watch him 3;

I've just taken advantage of Tess going to the loo to switch my pen light on under the desk. I guess I'd better get online and see if I can appease mr str8 before he starts getting all uppity again and plastering my pics all over the place. I have to say I'm quite confused at the moment about whether he will or won't do that. I don't know where we stand on his promise. Frankly, I think he's such a fruitcake you can't rely on anything he says.

Legs open, Molly, put that cunt on display...

[str8guy] Finally deigned to visit me.

[molly] i'm sorry about last night. i wasnt feeling well. spent a couple of hours soaking in the bath and after that i intended coming online, but i felt so awful i went straight to bed.

[str8guy] I see. At least you remembered to use your proper name.

[str8guy] That's progress, I suppose.

[molly] and my cam is on

[str8guy] Indeed it is. Pull your skirt right up and sit back.

As I was doing so my phone rang. It was McCabe. Smoothing down my skirt I rushed to his office.

"The donkey has taken the bait and he's wiggling like a worm. Time to strike, Molly. He wants it done and dusted today - his words, not mine. So go there and dust him down, every last piece. And once you've dusted, hoover up that cash. Chase McCabe can scent money this morning, Molly. Can't you? I bet you can, hooter like yours. Hoover it up, hoover it up."

I think that meant I was on my way to Clowes Manor School. I went back and told str8 his show was over for the morning.

[str8guy] Which school did you say?

[molly] Clowes Manor

[str8guy] That could be interesting.

[molly] yes?

[str8guy] Indeed. I think I mentioned yesterday a certain Master Thomas Bradley is a pupil at that school.

[molly] youre making it up. u don't know.

[str8guy] Molly, I know most things when it comes to you, believe me. And that I know.

[str8guy] Be sure to give him a nice, affectionate kiss if you see him. Perhaps a flash of that delicious little polly.

[str8guy] Talking of which...

[str8guy] You're bid writing today, I understand.

[molly] yep, esf

[str8guy] So you'll need a laptop.

[molly] woz just going to write it down for now, type it up later.

[str8guy] No, you'll take a laptop. Looks much more professional.

[str8guy] And anyway, you have such a nice laptop in your drawer.

[str8guy] Complete with camera and GPRS.

[molly] please don't

[str8guy] So early on, find an excuse to go on the web - the ESF site probably, to download the guidance - and log in here. Make sure the cam is pointed nicely at you.

[str8guy] And you know what I want to see, don't you?

[str8guy] Molly?

[molly] yes

[molly] can i wear panties

[str8guy] I think you know the answer to that, don't you?

[molly] yes

[str8guy] Off you go then, pretty Molly. Give my love to the boy Thomas...

[str8guy has quit]

[molly] goodbye u bastard

[molly] fuckwit

[molly] someone save me from this

Tuesday 27th April, 2004, evening

My arrival at Clowes Manor coincided horribly with morning break, hundreds of kids milling about yelling and screaming. The whole place seemed to pulse with malevolent humanity. I scurried past, my head down, praying to god I wouldn't bump into Thomas.

Inevitably, I did.

"Hi there." My heart sank as I recognised his voice. I turned and he was leaning against a vending machine, an impish smile on his darling face which in other circumstances might have melted my innards. He was with two other boys, who I didn't recognise from Walkabout.

"Hi," I replied as non-commitally as possible.

"Missed you,"

"It was only Friday."

"Seems like forever." He was showing off in front of his friends, his posture at once relaxed and aggressive. He was trying to show how much in control he was. Which was just as well, because I was a quivering wreck. The sight of my lover in a school uniform was distinctly unnerving.

"I must dash," I said, "I've got a meeting with the Head."

"Not about me, I hope." For the first time, his confidence faltered.

"Fuck, no." I bit my tongue as soon as I spoke. The two friends watched me curiously, the strength of my reply confirming for them a level of intimacy between Thomas and me which they hadn't expected. My uncertainty seemed to galvanise Thomas. He stepped towards me.

"Good. What you doing Friday?"

"Tending my period, probably." As expected, this embarrassed the boys slightly. I felt horrible doing it, but I wanted away from this situation.

"Oh well, how about a kiss then, before you go?"

I made to refuse, but I didn't want to create a scene. There were dozens of schoolkids mooning around us, but no-one seemed especially interested. A kiss would be the work of two seconds, and then I could be on my way. I bent towards him and brushed my lips against him, but he grabbed my waist and pulled me towards him roughly, his tongue spearing into my mouth. I pulled away as fast as I could and, without looking at anyone else, made me farewells and hurried off.

I signed in at reception and waited outside the Headmaster's office. Heads always make you wait - I've discovered this over the years. Not just the children, but anyone who has an appointment to see them. Eventually, his door opened and he smiled warmly, his left hand ushering me into his office and his right brushing lightly against my back, as though guiding me in the right direction. I hoped this was teacherly solicitousness and not lecherous over-familiarity.

"I see you know Thomas Bradley," he said, indicating outside his window. Thomas was gone, but the vending machine where our meeting had taken place was clearly visible.

"Family friend," I said, reddening instantly. My life seemed to be spiralling out of control, and I didn't feel in any fit state to do anything about it. I couldn't help thinking that I would have coped with the last couple of days better if they had arrived at a different point in my menstrual cycle. I busied myself by setting up my laptop on a table next to his desk.

The next question was: would I dare flash the Head as instructed?