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  ‘Quite right,’ Felicity said. ‘She’s clearly constantly seeking attention, and in other circumstances I would say that her strange conversation with Kate was just another aspect of this. However, its timing … One of us really ought to have a good hard talk with her. Not to make any accusations.’

  ‘She’ll know if you single her out,’ I warned. ‘She’s a very bright girl indeed. Right at the top of her peer group.’

  ‘So we have to talk to other pupils too – then it looks as if she’s just been picked at random. It’s all very time-consuming, however,’ Alison sighed, looking at her watch.

  ‘Five minutes with each child? Teams of two?’ Dawes said, also checking the time. ‘Names out of a hat?’

  Of course, Dawes’s name was plucked out to partner me. And of course we got Prudence to talk to, after the youngest in reception who mercifully hadn’t seen anything because she was brushing her teddy bear’s fur.

  ‘In my opinion,’ Prudence declared, ‘this was an accident waiting to happen.’ Her adult vocabulary failed her in the next sentence, however. ‘The playground lady keeps talking to the children. She doesn’t watch all the time.’

  ‘What should she have watched today?’ I asked.

  ‘Children running around. Sliding. Building in the snow.’

  ‘What did you watch today?’

  ‘Where to put my feet.’

  ‘And Rosie? Where was she putting her feet?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Did you actually see her fall?’

  ‘No. I heard the scream. But I shouldn’t think she was pushed, would you? Or tripped? A lot of children do stupid things like running round because the playground lady isn’t watching properly. Especially boys. One might even have been chasing her. It wouldn’t happen if the teachers were outside watching us.’ Thus spake the senior Digbys, no doubt.

  ‘It must have been awful to hear that scream,’ I said. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What everyone else did, I suppose – turned to have a look.’

  ‘And where were you?’ Dawes asked. ‘Who were you playing with at the time?’

  Prudence’s look told Dawes all too clearly that she didn’t do playing.

  ‘So what were you doing?’ he pursued.

  ‘Wondering what to do with a scrunchie I’d found – looking to see if anyone’s hair had come down and I could give it to her. Or to him, of course – the boys are supposed to have their hair tied back these days, aren’t they, Ms Cowan? In the interests of equality, I suppose.’

  Dawes stared at her flowing locks. ‘An edict honoured more in the breach than the observance, I see.’

  She was nonplussed for the first time.

  My turn. ‘You were obviously being very public-spirited. Thank you. So what happened to the lost scrunchie? Have you still got it?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Is someone accusing me of stealing it?’

  ‘Not that I know of. All I want to know is what you did with it.’

  ‘So you can announce it at assembly? A scrunchie?’ Her contempt was palpable.

  I think I stared her down.

  Dawes said, ‘It was a simple question, Prudence. A simple answer, if you please.’

  ‘I meant to give it to the school secretary. But in the confusion I may have given it to the playground supervisor. Yes, I’m sure I did. Perhaps she forgot to hand it in.’ She shook her head in apparent despair.

  ‘Did you talk long?’ he persisted.

  ‘With all that panic going on? I don’t think so!’ Her tone suggested not so much lack of doubt on her part but stupidity on his for asking the question.

  ‘That’s pretty well all then, Prudence,’ I said. ‘Just one thing,’ I added, as she stood up. ‘If you did think someone might have pushed or tripped poor little Rosie, it wouldn’t be telling tales if you told us – it would be whistle-blowing, I’d say.’

  Shaking her head, she made her way to the door. ‘If only you permitted phones in school we could have taken pictures. If only there were more staff on duty, or CCTV. Is that all? Because that’s the bell for change of lesson.’ She left without waiting for a reply.

  Dawes appeared to be washing his face. ‘What a piece of work! To think I thought you were victimising her.’

  ‘She’s certainly very unusual,’ I said mildly. ‘I have to pinch myself sometimes to remind myself that for all her amazing verbal skills, she’s a child, and probably a very unhappy one.’

  ‘Unhappy? Isn’t Rosie Morris the one who should be unhappy right now?’

  ‘Right now. But in general she’s very sunny, full of wonder and delight. I’d say she was very happy – and she has that wonderful relationship with her grandfather. And she didn’t deserve to be tripped or pushed today. As young Prudence rightly observed, we really need CCTV. Which should have been fitted today, but for a missing component. Life is full of ifs and maybes, though …’ I allowed myself to drop the ruminations: ‘What do you think we should do about Prudence and her possible role in today’s events, Mr Dawes?’

  ‘Oh, I think after today we know each other well enough to use Christian names, don’t you, Jane? You’re right to worry that the parents will accuse you of pursuing a vendetta. And we have no proof. If they get restive, refer them straight to me. Now, if we put pressure on Robert and the two girls, they’ll no doubt go running off to their parents who’ll want their solicitors involved. We want something both light enough to put off accusers and heavy enough to deter a repetition.’

  ‘My instinct is for me to ask an outsider in to lay down the law. If I invite you into assembly to do it, it’ll make your impartiality suspect. So I’m wondering if a policeman acquaintance of mine might pay us a quick visit.’

  ‘The handsome black man with the wonderful singing voice?’

  I looked at him quizzically, but the question I put was serious: ‘How did you know he was a police officer?’

  ‘Diane at the Cricketers. Very sharp woman. Just a friend, is he?’

  I ignored the slight emphasis on just. ‘He was one of the officers who protected me before my ex-husband was put in jail.’ Why the hell had I let that out? ‘You’ll recall I’ve had to change my name.’

  ‘Was he some master criminal, this husband of yours? Like on that TV programme about prisoners and their wives?’

  ‘Nothing so glamorous. Just a nasty little scum of a wife-beater.’

  There was a tap at the door; Alison and Felicity slipped in. It was time to share our disquiet and more tea with them.

  And to share it again at the staff meeting. But chiefly I wanted to congratulate and thank everyone, stressing the need for staff solidarity. Liz staggered in five minutes after we’d started, grey with fatigue, accompanied by Richard Morris, looking ten years older than when I’d last seen him.

  ‘Rosie’s fine. She’s got to stay in overnight but her mum’s with her. Back home ASAP, and back here ASAP too.’

  ‘Did she say anything about how she came to fall?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Nope. Says she can’t remember. Just up one minute and down the next. But that doesn’t mean,’ Liz continued, ‘that – sorry, Richard – she was telling the whole truth. I’ve promised to pop in when she gets home, so I’ll see if she’s remembered anything.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean by not telling the whole truth?’ For a moment I was afraid Richard might hit her.

  ‘She might be afraid of dropping someone in it. That’s all. Not that she’s a compulsive liar or anything.’

  ‘It’s my turn to be sorry, Liz. The reason people have children while they’re young is because old age does this to you,’ he said, groaning as he collapsed into a chair. ‘Now, I’m only here because I wanted to tell everyone what a saint Liz has been, an absolute saint. I’m old enough to worry about mothers working when they’ve got small children, but I tell you this, Liz couldn’t have treated her own child better.’ I wasn’t sure I saw the logic, but it was good to hear her praised. ‘Now, Jane, you said
you’d let me have a written report—’

  ‘And so I will when I’ve worked out what to say. The governors and I suspect that Rosie was tripped, but why and by whom we’re not able to say yet – and possibly never will be. We have agreed a bullet point summary, which you’ll get later this evening. And we’ve drafted a letter to Rosie’s mother.’ I passed a copy across. ‘Feel free to add anything.’

  ‘Thanks. Is it OK if I just hang around for a few minutes?’ He produced a pen from an inner pocket and kept it poised over the paper.

  I could hardly say no. I continued, ‘We have quite a long agenda, so I’m going to time-constrain each item. Tom: your media encounter tomorrow – anything we can do to facilitate things?’

  ‘It’s at lunchtime at the sports centre. I’ve got permission from Will and Sukie’s parents to take them along for the photoshoot. I’ve signed the car use papers and they’re with Melanie. Parish mag article in the parish mag in-box.’

  ‘Thanks and good luck …’

  We worked our way so briskly through the other items that I added an AOB. ‘I’ve had a request from the village cricket team to use our playing field for weekend games. Since the players may well prove useful role models for our boys and girls, I am minded to open negotiations. Would that be OK?’

  ‘Would they be coaching the kids? Would they need those tedious background checks?’ Richard asked, making us all jump.

  ‘As for coaching, I’m in contact with the charity devoted to taking cricket to schools, Chance to Shine. All of their staff and volunteers will have been checked. So no local players should be involved. If they are, yes, they’ll need checks.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll tell the other governors I’m in favour as and when you report progress to them. By the way, has anyone heard that the church wants to use the hall here until their boiler is repaired?’

  Where had he got that from? But on the whole I was glad that it was he who’d brought up the subject.

  ‘No objection, anyone? Excellent. Right, I’ll tell the other governors. This is fine,’ he continued, passing back the draft letter. ‘Thanks for letting me see it. Sorry to gatecrash, all. I must be off.’ He put a hand on Liz’s shoulder. ‘Jesus, Liz, if you’re as knackered as I am, I hope this meeting winds up soon. See you soon, one and all.’

  ‘Sleeping with the enemy, I hear,’ Diane said, pouring me a glass of Malbec. ‘Look at your face! Only joking, Jane. Try this – on the house. It’s a new line. I hear you did very well today. It takes some style to rope in someone who’s been trying to undermine you ever since you arrived. Cheers!’ She touched my glass with hers. We nodded approval of the Malbec.

  I should have come back with a jokey response. Instead I sounded pious. ‘Wherever did you get that idea from? The governors have a huge amount of responsibility, you know – they can end up in jail if things go wrong.’

  ‘Really? Remind me not to volunteer, then. Now, I’ve got a nice bit of fillet steak – could you fancy that? Fresh oil in the chip pan?’

  I tried to retrieve the situation I’d lost. ‘That might be construed as bribery and corruption! But there’s no need for anything like that – the governors were so knackered after their day dealing with kids they more or less nodded through the cricket club suggestion. It’ll have to be rubber-stamped at the next full meeting, of course, but with Dawes behind it … If any of the players wanted to have closer dealings with the children, then they’d have to submit to background checks, but that applies to everyone.’

  She looked surprised. ‘Even to the governors?’

  ‘I suppose so. Anyone likely to be in contact with individual children.’

  ‘OK. So it’s yes to steak and chips? How do you like it? Medium rare? Veggies or salad? Not really salad weather, is it? Now go and sit down before you fall down. And you can tell me all about your gorgeous young man later, after we’ve settled details of the musical instrument appeal.’

  I set her right.

  ‘Not your young man! You ought to remedy that! I gather he could sing the socks off a nightingale too.’

  ‘Oh, he can. You should have seen their faces when he joined in the first hymn. You know they’ll be holding services in the school hall till the boiler’s repaired? It helps having the vicar doubling as a governor, I suppose. Though given they’ll have to use the kids’ chairs – unless they bring their own – I suppose it won’t be a big congregation!’

  ‘Boom, boom! It isn’t just the boiler, of course – one of the windows is caving in, so you may have them for longer than you expect. And what about their midweek prayers? Won’t they be a bit disruptive? Mind you, I dare say they could always hold them in a phone box …’

  I would have given anything to be able to phone Pat and regale him with the day’s events – maybe even pick his brain about the best way of dealing with Prudence. But I had resolved not to bother him again, except in an emergency. Somehow falling asleep on the soft leather sofa didn’t seem to constitute an emergency.

  At least, while much later when I was cleaning my teeth, I remembered to call Richard for the latest news of Rosie – she was comfortable and sleeping. He sounded genuinely pleased I’d asked. I ought to start on the report I’d promised him. But just for once something would have to take precedence over school work: the deep bath and the high thread-count Egyptian sheets.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Peering from behind Melanie’s blinds the next morning, I fancied the school-gate mothers hung around rather longer than usual, with a tendency to give meaningful glances. However, their conversations were shortened by the arrival of the police community support officer, ready to wage war on illegal parkers. His work done, he was giving one last look round when I had an idea – why bother Lloyd, whom I’d thought yesterday might provide a little talk on the importance of telling the truth, when there was a tame person in uniform who had to be at the school anyway? I nipped out and asked. Although clearly taken aback, the young man managed to produce a smile and a nod of tentative agreement. He’d have to clear it with his boss, of course, but would quite like to, actually. How about Thursday? It would give him time to prepare what he wanted to say. Should he contact me to discuss his material in case I saw any problems he didn’t?

  What a wonderful young man. Ian Cooper. A young man with a degree in philosophy, no less, acting as little more than a lollipop man. That was today’s employment situation for you.

  I was so delighted with my little success that I almost forgot it was Open the Book day. Would it be very wrong to take my coffee with me? Actually it would: it would be disrespectful and would give the children entirely the wrong message. And what was the prospect of cold coffee compared with a vigorous performance of the parable of the Good Samaritan?

  As the children silently left the hall – the ‘Grand March’ from Aida was today’s music – I kept back Robert and Sophia. They were to wait by the front door to open it when Fred the Fiddle, more respectfully known as Mr Heath, arrived with his armful of musical instruments and to help him carry them. The tent principle, again, of course – with the added bonus that should they say anything about yesterday’s events, then Melanie would overhear. I’d attached a note to Fred’s ID telling him about my musical instrument project, and asking for his comments.

  The Open the Book team were in no hurry to be away, so I fell into conversation with Dougie, the man with a now useless key.

  ‘I’m sorry we had to change the locks and to stop you using the kitchen route,’ I said. ‘But Ofsted were worried about security, and when Ofsted say Jump—’

  ‘All you can do is ask how high. Don’t worry: I was in local government for years so I’m used to dealing with the whims of them up there. Now, I see you’ve been trying to tidy up that stockroom – it was about time someone did, if you ask me. It must be a real time capsule. I’m a bit of a local history buff, you know, and I’d be happy to lend you a hand, if you didn’t mind me keeping anything of interest, that is.’

  ‘So you
are the Good Samaritan, in real life as well as in your performance! But it would have to be lending a very careful hand, Dougie, because some of those boxes are very precariously perched, and I’d hate you to be buried underneath them. Like Leonard Bast,’ I added.

  ‘Ah! Someone who knows her E. M. Forster!’ He grinned. ‘Or like that composer Alkan, of course. Right. I’ll go with that. They say you’ve been working all hours here so I gather it’d have to be an after-school project? Tell you what, I’ll email Melanie with a list of times I’m free.’

  What a good day this was becoming. Perhaps.

  Actually it got even better. Fred the Fiddle actually smiled when he popped into my office later.

  ‘A concert at the Cricketers?’ he repeated. ‘Well, one or two of the children are actually able to play a few notes,’ he said, setting down his coffee on my desk. ‘In tune, I mean. We couldn’t run to a full-scale concert, but we could play a few tunes. The choir’s pretty good – they’re learning to sing, as opposed to chanting rhythmically. Not my doing, I’m the first to admit, but music’s music, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is indeed. And we’d only want a short event – Diane needs paying customers, not just enraptured parents. Ideally, and I know this is a big ask, we could do with at least one piece in which all the children could play, however badly,’ I added, as he pulled a face. ‘Just one. I was always last to be picked for the hockey team,’ I lied, ‘and I’m sure it scarred me for life. Not to mention my parents.’

  ‘And these days disappointed parents sue, don’t they? OK, a scratchy ensemble it is. And a smaller group who can show off their actual talents.’ He gathered up his mug, and got to his feet.

  ‘And I’ll contact all the musicians’ parents to get permission. Just check – is this list up-to-date? It’s one I inherited.’

  He ran his finger down the list, taking a pencil from my desk tidy to annotate it: ‘Dropped out last term; yes, still coming; doing very well; dropped out at Christmas; yes; yes; yes; dropped out at Christmas. Wish this one would drop out. Yes; yes; yes. And this one’s very promising.’