Five
Thursday
TIA
‘You okay, Tia? I heard you talking in your sleep last night.’ Ed pulls a T-shirt over his head, while I sit up and try to focus properly.
‘Mmm, yeah.’ I’m so wrung-out I can’t even form a coherent sentence. Flashes of dreams come to me – Rosie crying in the dark, Mr Jeffries shouting at me… and a dead man floating on the lake. I shudder and try to shake away the disturbing images. Last night was one of the worst night’s sleep I’ve had for years.
‘Tee?’
‘Still half asleep.’ I stretch noisily and smile up at my husband as he leans down for a kiss, a hank of blonde hair falling across one eye. ‘I had such weird dreams. And it was so hot and sticky. I need a shower.’
‘Sorry you had a crap night. Looks like it’s going to be another scorcher today. Pity me at work later. I’m hoping everyone orders salads. The thought of firing up the ovens…’ Ed’s a chef at the Scott Arms, a popular local four-star hotel. He works long hours, but he loves what he does. And when he’s home, he’s the best, most attentive husband and father I could wish for.
Our bedroom door opens and Rosie shuffles in, wearing a blue-and-white stripy nightdress and holding Shorty, her cuddly giraffe.
‘Morning Rosie Posie.’ Ed picks her up and blows a raspberry on her cheek, but instead of giggling, she frowns and pushes him away. ‘What’s up, pickle?’
She puts a hand on her stomach. ‘I’ve got a sore tummy.’
He puts her back down. ‘Maybe you’re just hungry. Want some cereal? Or I could make blueberry pancakes if you like?’
Rosie shakes her head as Leo charges into the room wearing just his pants and dives onto the bed, yelling and making explosion noises.
‘Shh, Leo, your sister’s not feeling well.’
‘Call the ambulance, nee naw, nee naw!’
Ed catches my eye, picks up our noisy son and pretends to fly him out of the room like an aeroplane. ‘Come on, terror, let’s leave your mum and sister in peace for a few minutes.’
As Leo’s boisterous cries grow fainter, I pat the edge of the bed for Rosie to come and sit next to me. Her curls frame her sad little face as she gently kicks the bedframe with the back of her bare feet and worries Shorty’s ear.
‘Shall we go and have some of those pancakes?’ I ask.
Rosie shakes her head, wearing the same closed-down expression as yesterday.
My chest tightens. ‘What’s wrong, baby?’
‘Bad tummy.’
‘Do you think maybe it’s a nervous tummy?’
She shakes her head. ‘I better stay in bed today.’
‘Shall I tell you what I think?’ I take her hand and give it a squeeze. ‘I think your tummy is feeling a bit wobbly after yesterday. Those silly boys made up stories and it made you feel a bit strange. Is that what’s happened?’
Rosie scowls.
‘And the best thing for a nervous tummy is to take a deep breath and be brave. I’ll come into school with you and talk to your teacher, okay?’
‘I want to stay here with you and Daddy. It’s not a nervous tummy, it’s a bad tummy.’
My heart breaks a little. There’s nothing I’d like more than for us all to stay home today, but that won’t do Rosie any favours. She has to face those little troublemakers and let them see she’s not intimidated. Easier said than done when you’re a five-year-old child.
And now she’s started crying. I need to think of a distraction.
‘Hey, tell you what, why don’t we invite Maisie and Sasha for tea after school today?’
I see her consider my suggestion, her scowl melting a little.
‘They could help us make the sailboat cakes.’
‘Can we go to the park too?’
‘Yes. But we better get dressed quickly, or we’ll be late, and I won’t get the chance to ask their mummies if they can come.’
‘Okay.’ She hops off the bed and runs out of the bedroom.
I take a breath. Thank goodness for that. Now I just have to give myself a talking to and stop stressing about what those boys said. It’s probably nothing sinister; just kids messing about.
The next hour goes by smoothly – well, as smoothly as it can when you’re trying to wrangle two young children into their clothes and get them to eat a sensible breakfast. We finally get to school without a hitch and Rosie goes into her class okay, brimming with excitement about asking her friends to come over after school. I drop Leo around the corner at his preschool and now I’m back at Rosie’s school to meet with Mrs Lovatt, the deputy head, to discuss what Rosie told me yesterday. I would have preferred to talk to Mr Jeffries, but he’s not free to see me until after school, so Mrs Lovatt will have to do.
‘Mrs Perry?’ A woman in her forties, who I’m guessing is Mrs Lovatt, has popped her head out of her office door.
I nod and get to my feet.
‘Would you like to come in?’
I follow her into her sparsely furnished office with a desk and three chairs. She’s new to the area and only started working at Ashridge Academy last term. Slim, with short, fair hair that’s flecked with grey, she looks to be a decade or so older than me – maybe forty-ish. We both sit and I waste no time explaining what happened yesterday. About how my daughter was extremely upset by some of the older boys making up nasty lies.
‘What did these boys say?’ She doesn’t seem overly concerned or apologetic and this irritates me. I mean, I know it’s not her fault and maybe it seems trivial to her, but she didn’t see how upset Rosie was yesterday. And how much the lies shocked me.
‘They told her…’ I pause. ‘They told her that I’d killed someone.’
Her eyes widen and she looks directly at me. I can see this isn’t quite what she was expecting. ‘And have you?’
I give an outraged laugh. ‘Not to my knowledge. No.’
‘Look, obviously that’s not a nice thing for them to say, but quite honestly it sounds like it’s simply boys being boys, playing detective, that kind of thing, you know how they can be.’
I take a deep breath and tell myself to keep calm. I really don’t want to lose my temper with this woman, but it’s annoying me how much she’s making light of the situation. I try to keep my voice level. ‘They weren’t “playing detective”, they were picking on my daughter and telling her that her mum is a murderer. Now, that might sound like harmless fun to you, but to me it’s quite a serious issue and I don’t want it happening again.’
She purses her lips and clears her throat. ‘Of course not. Do you know the names of these boys?’
‘No. Rosie didn’t say. I think they were older though. In the year above.’
‘Maybe we should call Rosie in and ask her.’
‘What, now?’
‘Yes. Hear what she has to say about it.’
‘To be honest, I’d rather not dredge it all up with her again. It took a lot to calm her down this morning. She didn’t even want to come in to school, and that’s never happened before.’ I realise I’m drumming my fingers on the desk quite loudly. I stop and put my hands in my lap.