Sadie. Jane Elliott
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It was quiet in the house, for which Sadie was extremely thankful. If she crept downstairs, maybe she could get her cereal and leave the house without anyone waking up. She tiptoed down, avoiding those parts of the staircase that she knew were creaky, and made her way into the kitchen, where she poured herself a bowl of cornflakes. There was only a drop of milk left, so she doused the cereal with what there was before turning to sit at the kitchen table.
She stopped in her tracks.
Allen was sitting at the head of the table, with his chair turned ninety degrees so that he could face her. He had been so quiet, so immobile, that she hadn’t seen him until now. His face was blank, but he looked tired, and he was wearing the same clothes that he had been wearing the previous night.
‘Good morning,’ he said.
Sadie walked brusquely to the other end of the table, where she sat down and started to eat with big mouthfuls; but the faster she tried to eat, the more the cereal stuck in her throat.
‘Aren’t you talking to me, Sadie?’ Allen asked.
Sadie swallowed her mouthful. ‘Where’s Mum?’ she asked.
‘Don’t worry about your mam,’ Allen told her. ‘She’s still in bed. Tired. She needs her sleep, now she’s working and all.’
‘I want to say goodbye before I leave for school.’
‘I told you, she’s tired.’ He stood up, and walked over to where Sadie was sitting. The girl put her hands on her lap and looked down at the now empty cereal bowl. He was standing too close now, invading her personal space. He lifted his hand and made as if to put it on her shoulder, but Sadie shrank from him and instead he picked up the bowl. ‘Off you go, then,’ Allen said. ‘I’ll wash this up for you.’
Sadie watched as he took the bowl to the sink and stood there, running the water, resolutely not looking back. As quickly as she could, she got her things together and left.
‘Miss Venables, you are not this school’s child protection officer. I can assure you that we are fully aware of the concerns about Jamie Brown, and they’re being dealt with through the proper channels.’
‘But Mr Martin,’ Stacy said, her frustration with the headmaster taking the edge off her politeness, ‘social services aren’t doing a thing.’
‘They’re monitoring the situation,’ the headmaster said emphatically, as though speaking to a child. ‘They can’t just storm in and remove the child from his mother – there’s no evidence of maltreatment, there’s been no disclosure from the child.’
‘But you only have to look at him …’
‘Enough!’ Mr Martin said forcefully, and she was stunned into silence by the sudden raising of his voice. The headmaster collapsed heavily into his chair and pinched his forehead momentarily before speaking again. ‘We’re keeping a close eye on Jamie Brown,’ he said more quietly. ‘It’s really not your concern.’ He looked her up and down. ‘I see you’ve chosen to ignore our last conversation about what constitutes a suitable dress code for teachers in this school.’
Stacy smoothed her white T-shirt. ‘Will that be all, Mr Martin?’ she asked coldly.
‘Yes, Miss Venables,’ the headmaster said wearily. ‘That will be all.’
Stacy’s footsteps echoed off the hard floor of the corridor as she stomped, seething, to her next lesson. Her cheeks were flushed with the embarrassment of her dressing down and also her frustration. She knew instinctively that all was not right with that kid. Why could nobody else see what was so obvious to her?
It was a long lesson. The children were distracted – it was always the way when the weather was sunny – and Miss Venables spent more time calming them down than teaching them English. There were the usual troublemakers: Anna and Carly felt the sharp end of her tongue, as well as a few of the boys. Curiously, though, Sadie Burrows was not sitting with the girls but had installed herself at the front of the class and was working quietly. It wasn’t like her to be by herself.
As the bell rang, the familiar sound of chair-scraping filled the room. ‘Don’t forget you have homework to do tonight,’ she called above the noise, but few people paid her any attention, and in any case her mind was on something else.
‘Sadie,’ she called to the girl sitting at the front. ‘Could you stay behind, please?’
Sadie looked up suspiciously at her teacher. ‘I’ll be late for my next lesson,’ she said without much enthusiasm.
Miss Venables approached her desk. ‘It won’t take long,’ she told her. ‘Just a couple of minutes.’ She looked around at the few children who were dragging their heels, clearly hanging around to see what she wanted with Sadie. ‘Was there anything?’ she asked them with a raised eyebrow. As one they shook their heads, muttered and left the room.
When it was just the two of them, Miss Venables’ face softened. ‘Is everything all right, Sadie?’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘You seem quiet, that’s all.’
‘I’m fine, miss.’
Miss Venables furrowed her brow slightly and nodded. ‘I was going to ask you if you could do me a favour, Sadie.’
She watched Sadie’s face twitch slightly and knew that she felt uncomfortable being asked this by a teacher. But give children a bit of responsibility, she always said, and it’s amazing how often they rise to the challenge. Besides, she really did need her help.
‘You know Jamie Brown?’
Sadie nodded cautiously.
‘Does he talk to you?’
‘Sometimes, miss.’
‘That’s what I thought. I’ve seen the two of you in the playground. Has he ever told you anything about what happens at home?’
Sadie looked straight into Miss Venables’ eyes, and the teacher found it impossible to read what she was thinking. She did notice, however, that the girl took a little bit too long to answer. ‘No, miss. We don’t talk about things like that.’
The teacher’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘No, of course not.’ She turned and walked back to her desk at the front of the class. ‘So what do you talk about?’ she asked lightly.
Sadie shrugged. ‘Just stuff, miss,’ she said.
Miss Venables nodded. ‘The thing is, Sadie, I’m a bit worried about him.’ She smiled at the girl. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you why that is. He seems very down today. You’re a sensible girl. I’m