a dare, a bet?
Come on – you know you want to! One little sip, you’ll be fine. Everyone else is.
Miriam shakes her head. This isn’t about her. It’s about Harriet. The same day she arrives in a different car, she’s apparently violently molesting her peers. Has Mrs McGee not read any of the case studies on how to spot unhappy children? Worse: at-risk children. Or problem parents?
A little clammy hand forces itself into Miriam’s. Miriam looks down into the heavily bespectacled face of one of the kids in her class. Little Winnie the Pooh plaster on the glasses frames. Sweet, vulnerable, but not who she wants to be looking after.
‘What can I do for you, Wendy?’ she asks. Reluctantly, Miriam gives her the appearance of her full attention. She’s still trying to listen out for the Izzie–Harriet scene but it’s hard with all the noise going on.
‘I’m a little teapot!’ Wendy announces.
‘Are you? That’s nice,’ Miriam tells her, craning her head to see over to Mrs McGee and her Victorian ideas of Naughtiness.
‘No!’ says the child so sternly that Miriam has to look at her. ‘Sing I’m a little teapot!’
Then all the others begin clamouring for it too.
So there we are. By popular request, Miriam is soon tipping up and pouring out (here’s my handle, here’s my spout). All the others are joining in too. She feels like Mary Poppins, and she sees Mrs McGee shoot her a look of gratitude.
Miriam catches sight of Harriet fiddling with her fingers and staring at the floor. Everyone’s been so interested in Izzie’s tears – have they been interested in hers?
But the bell goes for morning lessons, so that’s not allowed to be Miriam’s concern. The children in her class are suitably responsive to the boat theme. They are incredulous when she suggests how many people might fit in the boats. One gives a little whimper when she says that yes, mummies and children, or sometimes just children, will be in them. So Miriam backtracks. Makes it just about the boats again – bobbing over the waves, whee! Isn’t it fun!
Some of the boats get eyes drawn on. Some get mascots. It’s all very civilised. Poor invisible Maya. Her boat probably had neither eyes nor mascots. Just the unrelenting beat of the sea.
While they are in mid glue and stick mode, the door opens, and Izzie walks in. Her hand is flamboyantly taped up, and she is holding it aloft.
Boats forgotten, everyone crowds round Izzie.
‘Are you OK? Does it hurt? Can we see?’
Miriam does her teacher bit, tells them to sit down and do their work. It has limited effect, so she goes over and joins in.
‘What exactly happened, Izzie?’ she asks her.
‘I was doing beads with Karen, and Harriet came over and said could she play, but it was a private game, so I said no, and she still wanted to play, so I said no again, and then she tried to grab one of the beads from me really hard and hurt my finger deliberately on purpose. It’s very serious.’
‘Would it not have been nice to let Harriet play with you? I’m sure there must have been enough beads to go round?’ Miriam asks Izzie.
Izzie stares at Miriam as if Miriam has missed the point. Miriam sees her lower lip pucker. Oh dear. She’s about to start reliving her moments of glory with Mrs McGee all over again.
‘Don’t worry,’ Miriam tells her. ‘Those bandages will do a great job, I’m sure. You’ll be playing beads again in no time!’
‘Not with Harriet,’ she says.
‘Let’s see – I’m sure you can be friends again,’ Miriam says.
‘We were never friends in the first place.’
Why did you let those girls talk you into it? They aren’t even your real friends!
A memory of her mother flies in, unwelcome. This is not the moment.
Get into the moment. Boats.
Soon enough, the classroom gets its buzz back. Miriam mutters her excuses to the TA and slips out of the classroom.
She needs to know what has become of the other little girl in her care.
* * *
Miriam finds Harriet siting in the corridor outside the head’s office. Another Victorian approach. Harriet’s just waiting there, staring at her hands. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe she’s meant to be reflecting on what she’s done.
‘Hey, Harriet,’ Miriam says gently. She wants Harriet to see her as a confidante, a friend. They can build things up from there.
Harriet looks up, but doesn’t say anything.
‘You doing OK?’ Miriam asks her.
She shrugs.
Miriam sits down next to her. ‘I know you didn’t mean to hurt Izzie,’ she tells her.
‘Yes, I did,’ Harriet says.
Right. OK.
‘Why’s that, then?’ Miriam asks.
‘Daddy said if someone doesn’t give you what they want, you have to twist their arm until you get it. But it was her fingers that had the beads in, so I twisted them.’
‘Why did you want the beads so badly?’ Miriam asks. She doesn’t want to get into the Daddy issues today. That sounds like a separate conversation.
Harriet shrugs again. ‘They were pretty. I thought there were enough for all of us. And I couldn’t bring my own toys today.’
‘Why’s that?’ Miriam asks.
‘Mummy and Daddy were not able to bring me to school today because sometimes they have to work very hard. Auntie Yvette drove me very safely in her car.’
Miriam wrinkles up her nose, trying to pick between the obviously parent-schooled phrases.
‘Are Aunty Yvette and Mummy and Daddy kind to you?’ Miriam questions.
‘They don’t let me have beads either,’ she tells her.
Miriam nods. ‘Sometimes grown-ups are mean,’ she agrees. Harriet gives her a shadow of a grin. Good. They’re getting somewhere.
Miriam stands up. ‘Give me a moment,’ she tells her. Miriam’s about to knock on the head’s door, but she stops. She bends down to Harriet again.
‘Harriet, do Mummy or Daddy, or Auntie Yvette, ever do anything that makes you unhappy?’ she asks.
Harriet shrugs, avoiding Miriam’s gaze.
‘Harriet?’ Miriam asks again.
Very slowly, she looks
