‘OK now. Goodnight!’
The girl suddenly hurled herself at Claire and hugged her with all her strength.
‘Thank you Miss Pretty Penny!’ and then she was released; the girl ran inside and slammed the door.
Later, after the longish drive back home, a piece of paper fell out of her coat pocket as she was hanging it up.
A picture. Two figures with wide smiles and bulbous limbs, hovering above some scribbled green grass. A rainbow arched over their heads. At the top, in large firm letters, was written YOR KIND.
Claire kept it beside her bed that night so it would be the first thing she saw when she woke up in the morning. The girl had said she was beautiful! She thought about that, and about the hug, and smiled.
8
Claire didn’t expect Lorna’s parents to read the note, let alone comply with it. Parents rarely called when they were asked to; it wasn’t that sort of school. You had to cajole, threaten and force them into coming to meetings. So it was a surprise when, the following morning, there was a Post-it note stuck to her coffee mug:
Lorna Bell’s mum called. Call her back. She’s in all day.
It took Claire a while to convince James to see them. The staff meeting about the vandalism had only just ended, and he had yet another fractious chat scheduled with Reverend Gary that afternoon. Only the threat of some kind of social services scandal changed his mind. On the phone, Rabbit Girl displayed the same faint, fearful defiance but she agreed to come, and arrived on time, provoking more surprise. She wore thin leggings and an impossibly tight bomber jacket and her eyes were red-rimmed with cold. She hesitantly offered a red, chapped hand to Claire and nodded at James, before taking one of the cheap plastic chairs nearest the door, as if ready for a swift exit.
‘Mrs? Ms Bell, thanks for coming in on such short notice. Just an informal chat, really,’ James smiled. ‘We were a bit concerned that Lorna was left at school yesterday. Now, I know it’s hard to keep track of children’s different schedules – believe me I know! And I also know that you live a long way away, and it can be difficult to get anywhere on time, with the bus schedules the way they are!’ James spoke quickly. ‘Or do you have a car?’ The woman blinked. James coughed and consciously slowed his speech. ‘So we’re not judging you, or, or upset with you, or anything. But . . .’ He spread his hands, waiting for some kind of response. The woman’s lips twitched and she hunched further into her jacket.
‘Well. Can I ask what happened? Yesterday? I’m sure it was just an oversight, that we, as a school, completely understand. We get it.’ He smiled again, all teeth, waiting.
‘Forgot. We went out to the shops,’ the woman muttered.
‘Christmas shopping? I know how that can take over, believe me!’ James chuckled but cut his eyes at Claire to say something.
Claire kept her voice low. ‘We were concerned though. Lorna was quite frightened, obviously. And, well, I was a little surprised that there was nobody at home except Carl.’ She felt rather than saw James’ warning frown. ‘He really isn’t old enough to take care of a wee one.’
Rabbit Girl opened her eyes fully for the first time. ‘We’ve had no trouble with Carl, not since he got his statement.’
‘Do you need any help?’ Claire asked quietly.
‘What kind of help?’
‘We don’t think for a minute that you’re having trouble coping, Ms Bell. That’s not what Miss Penny means at all. Just to reassure you.’
Damn this man, thought Claire, willing him to shut up and listen. If you just listen to people, you can get to the bottom of things so easily. Just ask the right questions, and listen.
Ms Bell blinked her lashless, rabbity eyes. ‘He’s a good boy, Carl.’
‘He always was,’ lied James.
Ms Bell blinked slowly, sighed, and fixed her eyes on Claire. ‘She’s hard to handle, Lorna. I put my hands up.’
Now we’re getting somewhere, thought Claire. ‘How can we help?’ She leaned forward.
But Ms Bell seemed exhausted by her sudden confidence. ‘She’ll grow out of it.’
‘She certainly will.’ James beamed, and Claire knew that the tiny crack she could have chiselled open was closed.
Once out of the office, the woman lingered in the dim foyer, waiting for Claire.
‘You have kids, Miss?’
‘No.’
They were pushed together as Miss Peel swung by and Ms Bell leaned in. ‘I’ll talk to you, Miss. If you’ve got time.’ Claire, surprised, indicated James’ office, but Ms Bell shook her head.
‘Not him. You.’
‘My classroom’s just down the hall?’
Ms Bell, paused, frowned. ‘Is it quiet?’
‘There shouldn’t be anyone in it right now.’
‘Lorna won’t be there?’
‘I’m not her teacher. Mrs Hurst is her teacher.’
‘Yeah. Yeah. The other . . .’
. . . Old one thought Claire. She smiled. ‘Follow me, it’s just round here.’
‘All right.’
They walked through the tiny library – more of a corridor really. Tinsel was strung around the shelves and Claire had made sure that some of the Christmas Crackers’ artworks were given pride of place.
Ms Bell looked about. ‘This wasn’t here when I was at school. This was a toilet I think.’
‘Oh, did you come here?’
‘Yeah. I had Miss Pickin in Year Two.’
‘She’s still here.’
‘What?’ the woman’s face split into a grin. ‘No! What? She’s OLD—’ And immediately her face closed in on itself again and she muttered ‘Sorry’ to the floor. She almost ran past Claire into the classroom and wedged herself into a child’s chair.
There was a long pause. The woman leaned forward, rubbing one red hand over the other, a tiny rasp of sound. Claire perched on the table. Their knees almost touched. Then Claire noticed that her shoulders were quivering – she was crying, silently.
‘Ms Bell?’ she touched her knee. ‘Mrs Bell?’
‘Nikki. Call me Nikki.’