colour suddenly drained from Claire’s face and she swayed on her feet. She felt light-headed and tears swam before her eyes. It felt like the ultimate betrayal. Why, for God’s sake? Why? her mind screamed. Perhaps, she thought, Duncan might be mistaken. She doubted it, but she had to know, and she had to get rid of Duncan before he reported that he’d seen Miss Wentworth bawling her eyes out in the street. ‘I’m perfectly well,’ she replied stiffly. ‘I have just remembered something I have to do in school and I really mustn’t keep you any longer.’
Duncan watched her walk away and shook his head. Queer kettle of fish, teachers, he thought. Nice as ninepence one minute and pulling rank the next, going all stiff and starchy. To hear Janet talking, you’d think Miss Wentworth was a blinking saint, but she was as bad as all the rest and crackers into the bargain. Less you had to do with teachers the better, he decided.
Claire’s legs were shaking as she walked into the school. She went straight to the headmaster’s room, knowing he was away for the day, picked up the phone and asked to be put through to the education department. As she listened to the girl’s voice at the other end explaining that the letters had been sent out of the office on 24 March, she realised that Janet Travers had indeed won a scholarship to Whytecliff High School but for some reason had not had the decency to inform her teacher.
She didn’t understand. She thought she knew Janet so well, but the girl seemed to have undergone a character change. Claire was willing to admit she’d hit Janet harder than she’d ever hit anyone before. In fact, she’d hit her because she was Janet Travers. She’d taken her insolence as a personal affront and overreacted.
Janet obviously hadn’t mentioned it at home, but that wasn’t unusual. Claire used the cane and the strap sparingly, but when she had occasion to resort to it the boy – it was usually a boy – took his strokes with good grace, usually knowing that he’d well deserved it. No one ever mentioned getting in trouble at school to their family. They knew they would get little sympathy, and probably another dose to remind them to behave better in future.
In the same way, no child would say what they’d seen Miss Wentworth do to Janet, for they’d have to explain why. When their parents heard the reason for her discipline, they would think the punishment justified. It was Claire herself who was having doubts.
In the worry of the Travers household that day, where the mother lay ill and in grave danger of giving birth to a premature child, little notice would have been taken of Janet’s hand. When the doctor had spotted it, she’d obviously told him she’d fallen over. He must have known she was not telling the truth, but that was the story she must have stuck to, for it was all Duncan knew.
Claire wondered whether, if she’d sent the child from the room in the beginning, when she was still in control of her emotions, Janet would have told her what had upset or offended her, for it was obvious to Claire, thinking it over now, that something had.
I need to talk to her, she decided, and I must do it this evening after school.
Duncan dumped the bags on the cupboard top by the sink and said, ‘I’m starving, and these bags weigh a ton.’
Auntie Breda laughed. ‘Come up to the table, your dinner’s ready. Your dad’s been round and said your mom’s looking a lot perkier, so the news is good.’
‘And the baby’s holding her own too,’ Janet said.
Duncan didn’t really care about the baby, but he wished that everything was over and he could go back home. He didn’t mind Breda, despite her bossiness, but he’d rather be at home, and he even thought he’d rather be at school than being sent shopping and looking after his little brothers and Linda all the time. The thought of school brought to mind his strange meeting with Miss Wentworth. ‘I met your teacher coming home,’ he said to his sister.
‘Did you?’ Janet’s response was guarded and cool. She didn’t ask what she’d said, or how she was. Duncan was still puzzling over this when his aunt asked, ‘Did she wonder at you not being at school?’
‘No, she knew, I mean about Mom. She asked about her.’
‘How did she hear?’
‘She said she went to the house yesterday after school.’ He looked across at Janet and said, ‘You left your coat and bag behind and she took them round.’
‘That was kind of her,’ said Aunt Breda. Janet and Duncan looked at each other. Janet thought that Aunt Breda hadn’t been a mother long enough to worry over a child losing a coat.
‘She asked about your hand as well, Janet,’ Duncan said. ‘She asked if it was all right.’
‘Did she?’ Janet’s eyes were trying to tell Duncan something. Asking him to be quiet. He ignored the pleading look.
‘She said to tell you she’s sorry.’
‘What for?’ Aunt Breda said.
‘That’s what I asked her,’ Duncan said, ‘and she said just to tell Janet sorry.’
‘She must have seen you fall,’ Breda said, but her mind was distracted because just at that minute, Noel almost tipped what remained of his dinner over his lap.
‘I’m putting these little ones down for a nap,’ Breda said, ‘so you two deal with the dishes, and Duncan, you’ll have to wash.’
‘Are we going home tonight?’ Janet asked.
‘I’ll see how the land lies,’ Breda said. ‘I’ll pop and see your dad. If you can’t, I’ll have to phone in to work. They won’t like me taking another night off, but they’ll have to lump it.’
Janet knew her aunt’s words were mere bravado. Twilight shifts were like gold dust to mothers, enabling them to bring money in without paying most of it out again in childcare. No one could afford to jeopardise their job by taking days off all the time.
Duncan waited until Breda left the room and then began swirling the soapy water in the bowl over the plates. Suddenly he turned to face Janet and said, ‘Why didn’t you tell Miss Wentworth you’d passed the eleven-plus?’
Janet could think of nothing to say, no excuse. ‘I … I did,’ she said.
‘Miss Wentworth said you didn’t,’ Duncan said. ‘She was upset, I think.’
Janet knew she had to tell Duncan something. ‘I … I went but she had someone with her, a friend. I’d not seen her before and I didn’t want to say anything in front of her, so I came away.’
‘You could have gone again.’
‘I didn’t know how long the friend would be staying. I thought I’d wait till I got to school.’
‘But you didn’t tell her then either,’ Duncan said. ‘She knew nothing.’ He stared at Janet for a minute, and then, because he knew that in some way it was connected, asked, ‘What really happened to your hand, Janet?’
Janet pondered the question. Many of the kids in her class had older brothers and sisters in the secondary school and would tell them about yesterday’s incident, especially as it was Janet who was caned. It was only parents they’d be wary of informing; and they’d take particular pleasure in telling Duncan. In fact, she thought, probably the only reason he doesn’t already know is
