‘It’s a shame you couldn’t have been there to pick her up on your first day,’ Mum said, on the defensive again and weirdly accurate. ‘Then you could have asked her teacher yourself.’
I wasn’t going to get into a fight with Mum. I couldn’t handle it today.
‘By the way, my interview went well,’ I said pointedly. ‘They’re ringing me later to let me know if I’ve got it.’
‘Oh good,’ Mum said, her tone conveying that, in her opinion, it was actually the exact opposite of good. She stood up and picked up something from the counter that was wrapped in a clean tea towel. ‘Here, I made a quiche for your tea.’
23
Three Years Earlier
The Teacher
After she’d photocopied more worksheets for the next day, Harriet began to collect up the numerous sheets of the children’s dried artwork from the six square tables that were dotted around the classroom.
Without doubt, this was her favourite time of day. Most of the staff and all of the children had gone home and the classroom assumed a tranquil, reassuring ambience that never failed to calm her nerves.
Harriet was in no rush to go home. She was never quite sure, until she got through the door each day, what mood her mother would be in. It wasn’t difficult to hazard a guess, of course. Nine times out of ten, it was a foul mood.
It had seemed such a long summer break this year. At times it had felt never-ending. Each time there was a school holiday, she was always among the rare few who were glad to get back to work.
At school, Harriet felt as if she was somebody. She was respected because of her experience and people generally seemed keen to listen to her views and opinions. It was a far cry from being stuck at home with her constantly criticising mother. But, regardless of what she thought, Harriet knew that the work she did was important. Children were vulnerable, they needed guidance to help them navigate through the pitfalls of life as they grew older. Many of them received little guidance and learned few suitable life skills from their parents, or rather parent in the singular, as Harriet observed had increasingly become the norm in many homes.
Take little Evie Cotter. Mollycoddled in one sense and yet woefully neglected in another. It was vital that the child learned to face up to the unexpected death of her father and began that process as early as possible, to harden herself against the cruel jibes that were bound to come when she got a little older and, in particular, when she went to the high school in a few years’ time. There would be no stopping them then.
Other children could be vicious, cutting in the extreme with their remarks if they detected a soft centre, and Harriet was thoroughly convinced that this would leave lasting damage if the child concerned was unprepared.
Harriet froze for a few moments as thoughts whirled in her head, her hands full of colourful paintings depicting stick figures and various other indecipherable shapes.
The horror of being singled out and bullied at school left deep wounds that would weep inside you forever, where no one could see. The scar on her forehead began to itch again. It always did when she thought about the gang of girls who had tormented her for most of her senior-school years.
Harriet coughed, her eyes refocused and she took a hold of herself again. Now was no time to be lingering in the past or remembering that day they had cornered her with the broken bottle after school.
She had work to do. There were children here who she could save from a similar fate. Impressionable youngsters who depended on her, needed her guidance.
Evie Cotter was one of them.
24
Three Years Earlier
Toni
After Mum left, I felt so tired that I half dozed off while Evie watched her cartoons. I didn’t ask her any questions about what had upset her at school. We had the whole evening to get there and I knew from experience that Evie wouldn’t be rushed into talking about it if she didn’t want to.
I felt Evie sit up a bit straighter, tilting her head to one side as if she was listening. That’s when I snapped fully awake.
‘Mummy, your phone’s ringing,’ she said.
I jumped up and ran into the kitchen to find I’d missed a call from an unknown mobile number. Immediately, I thought it might be Dale, about the job.
But whoever it was hadn’t left a message. Stupidly, I’d left the phone in here instead of having it next to me. I tossed it onto the countertop in frustration and just then it began to ring again. I snatched it back up.
‘Hello?’
‘Toni? Dale here, from Gregory’s Property Services. I thought I’d give you another try, just in case.’
‘Hello, Dale. I’m so sorry I missed you, I left the phone in the kitchen and—’ I was babbling like an idiot. ‘Sorry, I’m going on a bit.’
‘Thanks so much for coming in today,’ he began, and I filled in the blanks. It was a really hard decision but in the end there was someone that suited the position better . . . ‘We were really impressed with your interview and I’d like to offer you the job. Starting tomorrow, if that’s still convenient for you?’
‘What? I mean, wow, thank you! That’s brilliant.’ I couldn’t believe I’d done it. I’d got the job. ‘And tomorrow is great for me, thanks. Thanks so much.’
‘Perfect,’ Dale laughed. ‘Well, congratulations, and we’ll see you at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Have a good evening.’
I stood for a moment when Dale rang off, the phone still in my hand. I felt a bit dazed.
A good thing had just happened to me. A good thing!
‘I’m hungry, Mummy,’ Evie announced, walking into the kitchen, trailing her blanket behind her. ‘What’s for tea?’
I pulled out a chair and picked Evie up, sitting down with her on my knee.
‘Listen, munchkin, Mummy has some really exciting news for us.’ My stomach fizzed as I heard myself say the words. ‘I just got a job!’
‘A job?’
‘That’s right. I’ll just be working afternoons, so I can still take you to school each day.’
‘But I don’t want to go to St Saviour’s anymore.’
My heart seemed to slip a notch in my chest.
‘Come on, poppet. It’s only your first day, it’s natural for things to seem a bit strange. Tomorrow will be so much better, you’ll see.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
Evie shuffled off my knee and stood in front of me, holding her blanket up to her pursed lips.
‘Why don’t you like school, Evie?’
‘I just don’t.’
‘Who’s your teacher? Nanny said it’s not Miss Watson.’
‘Miss Watson isn’t my teacher.’ Evie frowned. ‘She just helps Miss Akhtar.’
It was puzzling. I felt sure Harriet Watson had told me she was Evie’s teacher. I must have misheard her.
‘I had to go with Miss Watson into the library with some other children,’ Evie said.
‘That’s good. Miss Watson already knows you,’ I beamed. ‘I bet you’re her favourite.’
‘I’m not.’
‘OK, so what did you do in the library?’
‘She made me talk,’ Evie scowled. ‘I didn’t want to talk to the other children.’
It sounded to me like Miss Watson was trying to get Evie to come out of her shell a bit, to mix with the other kids. As far as I was concerned, that could only be a good thing.
Evie needed to make some friends. Although she was chatty and confident at home, I’d noticed in the last few months that she could be stubbornly silent and a bit moody around new people.
‘It’s just a first-day thing, Evie,’ I reassured her. ‘Everyone has to do that when they’re new, I’ll have to do it tomorrow when I start my new job. It’ll be different tomorrow, you’ll see.’
‘I’m not going tomorrow,’ Evie said, her jaw firmly set. ‘Nanny said I don’t have to.’
25
Three Years Earlier
Toni
When I opened my eyes the next morning, my heavy heart told me there was something to worry about before my mind caught up with exactly what that was.