A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys I really appreciate them.

"Maxine's dead?" Rachel could be forgiven for her disbelieving tone—after all; it wasn't exactly on the agenda.

"Yes, she's dead. Oh Rachel. It's that Kelly boy, Earl; I just KNOW it is…"

"That's a very serious allegation to make, Steph," said Rachel professionally, "Do you want a cup of tea and then we'll discuss this?"

Steph shook her head, irritated. "I know it was that boy, Rachel!" She sank down in the chair opposite Rachel's desk, her hands balled into fists.

"Why would Earl Kelly kill Maxine? He was her boyfriend."

"Do you not watch the news Rachel?" Steph looked up at her. "Or rather, you're in it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Rachel sharply, her eyebrows rose.

"Nothing. Sorry." Steph looked awkward. "I just know it was Earl, no way did that little brother of his really smuggle a gun into school. I bet Earl forced him to look after it—I wouldn't put it past him!"

"What's this about Earl Kelly?"

Oh, no. It was Eddie. He strode through that moment with a hand on his hip, a questioning expression on his face. "What's he gone and done now?"

"Only gone and murdered my Maxine!" Steph shrieked.

Rachel and Eddie exchanged looks—he looked even more confused.

"Maxine's dead?" Eddie looked shocked.

"Yes," snapped Steph, "Well done Eddie! The term murdered usually covers it!"

Rachel put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Dear god. Poor Maxine… but how could Steph be so sure it was Earl? The woman had something against the family, even Rose… Grief made people say barbaric things, obviously, but this was such a terrible accusation… Earl Kelly was not a killer; Rachel had faith in him and the entire family. What would Rose say? She'd no sooner got back on her feet and Rachel was sure that this news would make her fall back down with a heavy bump.

"Sorry," murmured Eddie, looking appalled.

Steph rose to her feet. "I'm going to spend my free period in the Staff room. Please, Rachel, try and do something about Earl Kelly. If you won't…" Steph paused by the door, "Then I will."

Once she had gone, Eddie turned back to Rachel. "God, poor Maxine… hey, are you alright Rachel?"

She looked at him through tired eyes. "Yes, Eddie, I'm perfectly fine."

"I'm not so convinced," he disagreed sadly, sitting in Steph's now vacant seat. "What are we going to do?"

She paused. "Standard Procedure, of course."

"And what's that?" Eddie frowned.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to get everyone in the hall by second lesson and have a special assembly for Maxine to let everybody know… and we'll have to call the police in about this."

Eddie stood up and glanced out of the window. "You might not want to bother doing that—look."

Rachel went over to the window and was uncomfortably aware of his body brushing against hers. "Guess not," she murmured, watching the police climb out of the car.

He moved away. "Well…" he cleared his throat, "I'm going to the staff room to keep an eye on Steph."

She forced a smile. "Yes, you do that Eddie."

"Are you sure you're okay? And I don't mean just with Maxine, Rachel, I mean with… well…" he looked uneasy for a moment, "Well, with everything."

"Steph will be waiting for a good drink, I imagine Eddie," dodged Rachel, her hair falling over her eyes.

"Yeah…" He decided not to press the matter and instead gave her a warm smile which melted her jealous heart before walking out.

If this was true about Earl Kelly, then why had she not noted it before? Eddie had sworn that Earl had changed—but she hadn't been utterly convinced no, but nevertheless she had acquired an unspoken faith for the lad, whether she liked it or not… She glanced in her mirror and fixed her hair and lightly traced her thumb over her dry lips… she looked pretty for some bizarre reason—perhaps the tears collecting in her eyes were a sign of tortured beauty, or perhaps it was the fact she had lost a lot of weight, even though her frame had already been just right.

Why on earth was she thinking about her weight in times like these? She decided that it went to show how shallow she was really acting. Once again, Rachel glanced out of the window and saw that the Police were walking into school. Time to prepare for an interrogation, she thought with a bitter smile.

- -

Grantley was asleep again in class, which gave his students the perfect excuse to sneak out and hang around in the corridors playing rebel. Apart from Bolton Smiley, who had got Grantley's permanent marker and wrote a backwards D on the older man's forehead and had proceeded to sit innocently on his desk, nose buried into an upside down book. "Come on, wake up you old git," he muttered behind his book.

"Excuse me," said Grantley, opening one eye "But I'll have enough of that…" Both eyes opened and he scowled. "Where the bloody hell is my class?"

Bolton smiled. "In the corridor, sir, you went asleep so they all left. I stayed though, 'cause I'm good."

"Good my bloody backside," growled Grantley, "And I was certainly not asleep, I was closing my eyes."

The younger lad smirked. "Is that why you were snoring sir?" He let his book clatter to the floor. "Oh yeah, you might wanna check a mirror sometime."

"You sayin' I look funny, lad?"

Bolton looked offended. "No way mate! That was Carla! Nah, I was saying it 'cause someone's wrote on your forehead."

Grantley rolled eyes and said dismissively, "Of course, my class leave when I am supposedly sleeping after writing on my forehead and by some bloody miracle, Smiley; you stay behind playing good boy? I got my eye on you."

"I'm telling Miss Mason on you sir," sniffed Bolton in mock offence, "it's well out of order for you to go tellin' your students off like that when they've done nothin' wrong!"

"Out, out, out!"

"Fine I'm going, calm down man!" Bolton glared and bounded out of class, slamming the door behind him. Grantley's shoulders relaxed and he sat back down, grumbling to himself. He glanced at his computer—his outlook express was open and STILL no response from the company…

"Hey," he said aloud, catching his reflection as the screensaver flickered on, "Who wrote on my bloody head?"