mother doesn’t ride horses, but she’ll say anything to impress people.
‘I enjoyed meeting her,’ says Mr Cockrun. ‘We were in complete agreement when it comes to children’s schooling. Wasn’t she in education herself at some point?’
‘Um … no. She wasn’t. I did tell her not to visit again without me. I know schools are busy.’
Mr Cockrun ignores me. ‘“Act the best and you’ll be the best”– that was her motto. A very astute woman.’
I laugh. ‘My mother certainly knows how to make things look good.’
‘You were very early again this morning.’ Mr Cockrun raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘I saw you from my office. And now early again for pick-up.’
‘I like to be on time.’ I lift my chin. ‘This is a new start for us. A new life. I want everything to be perfect.’
‘Best not to get here too early.’ Mr Cockrun notices a dandelion growing in a crack in the tarmac, frowns, pulls it up and pushes it under a shrub in the flowerbed. ‘The teachers like a bit of peace and quiet, and so do I.’
‘I just—’
‘Now, since you’re here, let’s have a quick word about Tom.’ Mr Cockrun turns serious eyes on me. ‘His form teacher will want a chat shortly.’
‘About what?’
‘About the standards here. The behaviour we expect.’
‘Yes, I—’
‘We were happy to make space for Tom at such short notice. But if he disrupts other children, we have a problem. A big problem. He’s already got a reputation as a bit of a troublemaker.’
Troublemaker. What?
‘My Tom? But he never gets into trouble.’
‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way but parents always think that. They never think it’s their child.’ He gives one of the railings – a rusty-looking one – an experimental tug. When he finds it a little loose, he takes a notepad from his pocket and scribbles something, shaking his head. ‘I’d have a word with him if I were you. Sooner rather than later.’ Then he strolls away.
I stare at the entrance door as it creaks closed.
Around me, other parents begin arriving. The school bell rings, long and loud. Five seconds of calm.
Then, in one great rush, children spill out into the playground.
I look for Tom and see him trudging among the other children, shadowed by an eerily calm-looking teacher, who is walking with a hand on his shoulder.
The teacher has short, salt-and-pepper hair cut in a jagged, youthful style that actually makes her look older, highlighting her wrinkles and large ears. Her hips, which carry a good twenty pounds of excess weight, strain in an unflattering black trouser suit that would be more at home on a London legal professional.
All in all, it’s the look of someone out of place. She doesn’t fit in, but she’s trying.
Her name is Mrs Dudley, I think. Yes, that’s right.
When Tom sees me, he runs and throws his arms around me.
Oh God … what happened? What happened?
I can feel Tom’s chest heave as he sobs into cotton.
‘Sweetheart,’ I whisper. ‘What’s the matter?’
Mrs Dudley gives me an empty smile. ‘Mrs Kinnock? May I talk to you?’
A hundred faces turn in my direction, and I hear someone suck in their breath.
‘I’m Miss Riley,’ I say. ‘And yes. Of course. Shall I … should I follow you inside?’
‘No.’ Mrs Dudley smiles politely, but her expression is firm. ‘We don’t let parents into the classrooms. For safeguarding reasons.’
‘So where should we—’
‘Oh, we can have a quick chat here.’
I pull Tom close to my hip. ‘Talk about my son in front of everybody? Can’t you see he’s upset?’
‘We’ll wait until everyone leaves,’ Mrs Dudley says.
I look down at Tom. ‘How are you, Tommo? What happened?’
Mrs Dudley flashes me pale grey eyes. ‘Give everyone a minute to clear out before we get into it.’
Tom doesn’t answer. Just stares ahead, red-eyed and sniffing.
When the crowds have dispersed, I crouch down. ‘Tom?’ I say.
‘I don’t know,’ he whispers.
‘Are you okay, Tom?’
‘I got in trouble.’ Tom wipes at tears. ‘But I don’t remember.’
‘You don’t remember? How come?’
‘I just don’t.’
‘Your teacher and I will have a chat.’ I kiss his head and stand up tall. ‘We’ll get all this sorted out, don’t you worry.’ I tilt my head at Mrs Dudley. ‘So what’s going on?’
‘Well, I have to tell you, Miss Riley, we had … an issue today.’
‘What sort of issue?’
‘This goes no further, but you do need to be informed.’
‘What happened?’
‘Two boys were fighting in the playground.’
‘Tom was fighting?’
‘Not me, Mum,’ says Tom. ‘Pauly and Lloyd. Pauly had to go to hospital.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Tom wasn’t involved in the fight,’ Mrs Dudley fills in. ‘But a little girl asked him about it and he attacked her.’
‘Tom attacked someone? A girl? My Tom? No – there’s been some mistake. Tom would never do anything like that.’
‘The girl had to go to the nurse’s office. She was very shaken up. Miss Riley, this behaviour is absolutely unacceptable. It cannot happen again. The school’s reputation means a lot to us. Pupil behaviour is key.’
‘I don’t believe this happened.’ I shake my head.
‘I saw it,’ says Mrs Dudley. ‘The attack came out of nowhere – totally unprovoked. And things like this cannot happen here. You have to understand. We won’t tolerate it. Not when it puts the school’s image on the line.’
