canteen, and she pushed another child and injured him.’
‘ Stole is rather a strong word,’ I said. ‘We pay for school dinners so it’s hardly theft. I’ll come straight there.’
It took ten minutes to reach the school gates, another five to get through the office’s strict security, and a further two to find myself standing outside the toilets with Mrs White and her assistant head teacher, a long-haired man who looked about fifteen. Further up the corridor a group of twenty of so children had gathered, giggling and gossiping and gawping.
‘I must first explain that we have tried to reason with Rose,’ said Mrs White. She wore large tortoiseshell glasses that gripped her nose, and she closed her eyes briefly at the conclusion of each sentence she spoke. ‘We’re not in the habit of breaking down school doors, especially with a child on the other side. So there’s no way to get to her. Mr Copeland and I have tried all manner of reasoning but I’m afraid she shouts obscenities at us.’ Here Mrs White closed her eyes for an extra second or two. ‘Bradley Jones from 5M sustained a rather nasty bruise when Rose pushed him against a table.’
‘Can I just talk to my daughter?’ I asked.
Mrs White nodded her assent and followed me into the school toilets. The overuse of bleach made me gag. Soap dispensers were covered in blue liquid and one of the sinks was blocked and full of dirty water. The door to the last cubicle was shut. I knocked gently upon it.
‘Rose? It’s me. Are you okay?’
‘I’m ace,’ she said. ‘I’m just eating chocolate flapjack.’
‘Flapjack?’ I supressed a smile, despite knowing it would send her blood sugars rocketing.
‘That’s what she took from the canteen,’ said Mrs White. ‘ Eight of them.’
‘Send me the bill then,’ I snapped. Then more softly so Rose wouldn’t hear, ‘Could you leave us? I’ll try and coax her out.’ How on earth did I think I could manage that? My daughter rarely did anything I asked at the moment.
‘Very well,’ said Mrs White. ‘Then bring her to my office please.’
Then once more it was just us – divided by a door. I perched on one of the unblocked sinks and sighed. How to piece together my words? What to say to make her come out? How had I created a story earlier and yet now had nothing?
‘Why did you take the flapjacks?’ I asked eventually.
No answer.
‘Mrs White isn’t here,’ I said.
‘Bran Flakes are shit,’ said Rose. ‘You made me have them this morning and every bastard morning. I wanted something nice.’
‘Rose, please! You can’t talk like that. You’re nine . What would your dad say?’
‘He’s not here,’ she said.
No, he wasn’t. How would things be different if he were? Would I be doing better? Would Rose be eating stolen flapjack in the school toilet if Jake were home to help us?
‘I’m here,’ I said.
‘ You swear like that all the time.’
‘Why did you hurt that boy?’ I asked.
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘Rose, you can’t hurt people.’
No answer again. I feared I’d have to suggest to Mrs White that the caretaker remove the screws and take off the door. How long would that take? What if she did this again? I looked at the mould-stained ceiling as though the answers might be written in the dirt. Eventually Rose spoke.
‘Bradley called me a freak,’ she said quietly. ‘He said I’m going to die cos I’m so thin I’m like a skellington. He’s been saying it loads. He gets his friends to say it too. So I pushed him over. And I took the flapjacks cos I was totally starving. I wasn’t nicking them! They all went so mental that I ran in here.’
Tears tickled the corners of my eyes. Rage fired my heart. I wanted to grab the boy who’d called her a freak and shake him hard. He must have been the reason she said earlier that she didn’t like school.
All parents see their own children as the innocent ones, as perfect. Not me. I knew Rose’s flaws as
‘ Stole is rather a strong word,’ I said. ‘We pay for school dinners so it’s hardly theft. I’ll come straight there.’
It took ten minutes to reach the school gates, another five to get through the office’s strict security, and a further two to find myself standing outside the toilets with Mrs White and her assistant head teacher, a long-haired man who looked about fifteen. Further up the corridor a group of twenty of so children had gathered, giggling and gossiping and gawping.
‘I must first explain that we have tried to reason with Rose,’ said Mrs White. She wore large tortoiseshell glasses that gripped her nose, and she closed her eyes briefly at the conclusion of each sentence she spoke. ‘We’re not in the habit of breaking down school doors, especially with a child on the other side. So there’s no way to get to her. Mr Copeland and I have tried all manner of reasoning but I’m afraid she shouts obscenities at us.’ Here Mrs White closed her eyes for an extra second or two. ‘Bradley Jones from 5M sustained a rather nasty bruise when Rose pushed him against a table.’
‘Can I just talk to my daughter?’ I asked.
Mrs White nodded her assent and followed me into the school toilets. The overuse of bleach made me gag. Soap dispensers were covered in blue liquid and one of the sinks was blocked and full of dirty water. The door to the last cubicle was shut. I knocked gently upon it.
‘Rose? It’s me. Are you okay?’
‘I’m ace,’ she said. ‘I’m just eating chocolate flapjack.’
‘Flapjack?’ I supressed a smile, despite knowing it would send her blood sugars rocketing.
‘That’s what she took from the canteen,’ said Mrs White. ‘ Eight of them.’
‘Send me the bill then,’ I snapped. Then more softly so Rose wouldn’t hear, ‘Could you leave us? I’ll try and coax her out.’ How on earth did I think I could manage that? My daughter rarely did anything I asked at the moment.
‘Very well,’ said Mrs White. ‘Then bring her to my office please.’
Then once more it was just us – divided by a door. I perched on one of the unblocked sinks and sighed. How to piece together my words? What to say to make her come out? How had I created a story earlier and yet now had nothing?
‘Why did you take the flapjacks?’ I asked eventually.
No answer.
‘Mrs White isn’t here,’ I said.
‘Bran Flakes are shit,’ said Rose. ‘You made me have them this morning and every bastard morning. I wanted something nice.’
‘Rose, please! You can’t talk like that. You’re nine . What would your dad say?’
‘He’s not here,’ she said.
No, he wasn’t. How would things be different if he were? Would I be doing better? Would Rose be eating stolen flapjack in the school toilet if Jake were home to help us?
‘I’m here,’ I said.
‘ You swear like that all the time.’
‘Why did you hurt that boy?’ I asked.
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘Rose, you can’t hurt people.’
No answer again. I feared I’d have to suggest to Mrs White that the caretaker remove the screws and take off the door. How long would that take? What if she did this again? I looked at the mould-stained ceiling as though the answers might be written in the dirt. Eventually Rose spoke.
‘Bradley called me a freak,’ she said quietly. ‘He said I’m going to die cos I’m so thin I’m like a skellington. He’s been saying it loads. He gets his friends to say it too. So I pushed him over. And I took the flapjacks cos I was totally starving. I wasn’t nicking them! They all went so mental that I ran in here.’
Tears tickled the corners of my eyes. Rage fired my heart. I wanted to grab the boy who’d called her a freak and shake him hard. He must have been the reason she said earlier that she didn’t like school.
All parents see their own children as the innocent ones, as perfect. Not me. I knew Rose’s flaws as
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