Page 38 of A Class Act

Ms Liversedge’s carefully made-up face flushed a not too flattering turkey-neck red. ‘I do hope, Ms Allen, you’re not suggesting my governing body or I are responsible for your mother’s… illness?’

‘Of course we’re suggesting that,’ Jayden snapped.

‘I can assure you…’ Ms Liversedge broke off, glancing in her deputies’ direction, obviously ensuring notes of the meeting were being taken. ‘I can assure you all procedures were followed: a written letter outlining the governors’ decision was sent first class on Friday afternoon. It included our suggested next steps: either a PRU in the town centre…’

‘A PRU?’ I glanced at Jayden, knowing he’d understand.

‘Pupil referral unit,’ he confirmed, shaking his head.

‘…or, I took the liberty of speaking to Mr Donoghue, the head over at St Mede’s?—’

‘St Mede’s?’ My head shot up. ‘I thought that place had closed down years ago?’

‘Several reprieves, I believe, especially as they’re prepared to take on some quite difficult cases. And believe me, Ms Allen, Sorrel here is no angel.’ She held up her hand once more as I started to speak and then she rose, flicking her long blonde hair with a nod of her head while indicating that her deputies should get back to doing what they were paid for. ‘I’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted to hear. I will reiterate: we have gone down every avenue, followed all legal procedures to remove a child from our school register…’

‘I’m not a sodding child,’ Sorrel snapped, knowing we were dismissed.

‘…and I strongly advise you make an appointment to see Mason Donoghue at St Mede’s asap.’

‘It doesn’t work just like that, surely…?’ I started as the head moved to the door. ‘She gets kicked out of one school one day, and the next, the one down the road’s welcoming her with open arms? And Mum’s just splashed out on all this new uniform for Sorrel – the monogrammed blazer, the black shoes…’

‘I never wanted this rubbish uniform,’ Sorrel scoffed. She pulled off the blazer, throwing it in the direction of Ms Liversedge who, to her credit, caught it deftly with one hand, folded it neatly and handed it back to me.

‘As I say, Mr Allen… Ms Allen, you’re in the hands of the authority’s educational social workers from now on. I repeat, your best option is to speak with the head of St Mede’s directly. He’s under no obligation to take Sorrel and, if he doesn’t, you’ll have to work with the authority and go where directed.’

‘Right, let’s do that, then,’ I said furiously. ‘Come on, Sorrel, let’s go.’

‘You can’t just go to St Mede’s without an appointment, Ms Allen. You need to be contacting the local authority for advice.’

‘Watch me,’ I countered, pushing Sorrel ahead of me, out of Ms Liversedge’s office.

‘I have to get off to Aberdeen,’ Jayden protested, looking at his watch.

‘Yes, andIhave to go and see Mum,’ I replied. ‘But we’re not doinganythinguntil we’ve sorted Sorrel. We’re not having her enrolled at the PRU, or wandering the streets or staying in bed all day, so you and I, Jayden, are going to make sure, not only that she has a place at another school, but that she goes there every day.’

‘And how are you going to make me?’ Sorrel asked, but some of the bravado was already leaving her. ‘You’ll go back to London soon; Jayden’s off all over Europe and we probably won’t seehim again for months.’ She glared in his direction. ‘And we don’t know how long Mum’s going to be in hospital.’

‘I know, I know,’ I said, feeling stress in every bit of my body, but also a huge wave of sympathy for this little sister of mine who, when her guard was down, appeared terribly vulnerable. I took her arm and guided her into the back seat of Jayden’s car. ‘Look, Sorrel…’ I fastened my seat belt and pointed Jayden in the direction of St Mede’s, but then faltered as I turned and took in Sorrel’s bent head and hunched shoulders. ‘Sorrel?’

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she cried, suddenly crumpling into herself.

‘Pull over, Jayden,’ I ordered almost immediately we’d set off, and he indicated, pulling into the Starbucks on our left.

‘What is it, Sorrel?’ I reached behind me for her hand.

‘No one listens,’ she sobbed, mascara, tears and snot amalgamating in a soggy mess, which she made no attempt to mop up, even with her chewed-to-the-quick fingers. ‘He’snever around.’ She pointed towards Jayden in the driving seat. ‘He never has been. Jess is too busy working and has Lola to think about and you… you, well, you’re going to be famous and marry some posh bloke and be rich and live in Bucks… wherever that is… Mum said so… and, and… I get nervy… I feel funny in my tummy…’

‘What are you anxious about?’ I asked, stroking her fingers. ‘Is someone being mean to you?’

‘I can’t tell you. But I get anxious… what if I end up like Mum?’

‘Try to tell me, Sorrel. Please?’ When she didn’t deign to answer, I tried to reassure her. ‘But why on earth would you end up like Mum? Poor old Mum’s been landed with a very rare condition. You know that. It’s not hereditary.’ I turned to Jayden, indicating with one look that he should lie if necessary. ‘Is it, Jayden?’

‘I googled it.’ Sorrel sniffed. ‘It can sometimes be passed on. And Mum got really depressed when she had me, didn’t she? She didn’t want me, and I bet he didn’t either.’ Sorrel glared at Jayden through her tears.

‘Of course Mum and Jayden wanted you,’ I soothed and, turning to my dad, added, ‘Tell her, Jayden, tell her!’

While we did our utmost to convince Sorrel that she had been very much wanted, my mind went back to the time, listening over the banister and at the closed kitchen door on one of Jayden’s arrivals back home. Mum was crying while Jayden was talking in a low voice and it hadn’t taken long for me to realise that it was true, my parentshadn’twanted another child. Especially as Jess and I were both well into our teens by then.

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