Page 39 of A Class Act

‘That was post-natal depression, Sorrel. It’s horrible at the time, but a lot of women get it when they’ve had babies.’ I was desperate to reassure her. ‘Mumwasn’tso good when you were born, and I know we were only thirteen and almost fifteen, but we – Jess in particular – helped her through it as much as we could. We used to look after you when Mum was tired and fed up with everything.’ I glared at Jayden, remembering, but he shrugged and looked away, not knowing what else to do. ‘It was hormones,’ I went on. ‘Mum got over it and absolutelyadoredhaving a new baby. Jess and I loved having a new baby in the house too,’ I lied, remembering thinking would the baby ever shut up crying? Would Mum ever stop crying?

‘The thing is, I just can’t sleep sometimes, and Mum said she was like that when she was my age…’

‘Well, she shouldn’t have said that,’ I soothed, glancing at Jayden. ‘Right, Sorrel, this is what we’re going to do: Jayden is going to go and get us coffee, we’re going to have a bit of a chat and then… no argument… he’s going to drive us to St Mede’s and we’re going to be on our best behaviour and plead with the head there to take you on.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Sorrel, you’remy sister: Mum, Jayden, Jess and I love you. We’re here for you. We’re going to sort this all out.’

‘And then you’ll leave me again. Go back to London.’

I closed my eyes, rubbing at my knee, which was throbbing now. ‘I’m going nowhere. I’m staying right here with you and Mum.’

14

‘I really did think this place closed down when Jess and I were at Beddingfield Comp,’ I said as Jayden drove into the car park. ‘We were always ready to do battle with the kids who came here – bloody rough lot, they were. Jess and I used to be terrified of them.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Jayden sighed, looking surreptitiously at his watch before pulling into the one vacant space, a veritable oasis amid a sea of hatchbacks.

‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’ I shook my head slightly in his direction. When had Jayden ever been around or interested, when we were at school?

‘Are we allowed to park here, d’you think?’ he asked, glancing round almost guiltily, apprehension at being forced into yet another official establishment plainly manifesting itself once more.

‘Come on, Sorrel, best behaviour now,’ I said. ‘If this school won’t take you, then it’s the… the other place in town…’

Sorrel rubbed at her eyes. ‘I can’t go in there. They’ll know I’ve been crying.’

‘Well, maybe not a bad thing. It’ll show them you’re sorry and ready to start again.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’ The woman behind the open office window, who, although not quite as much a Rottweiler as the one at the high school, clearly wasn’t prepared to let us through without, if not a fight, at least a tussle.

‘I wondered if Ms Liversedge at Beddingfield High had phoned?’ I asked, smiling.

‘Not that I know of.’ She turned to the other two women in the office, who both shook their heads.

‘Sorrel here,’ I continued in as friendly a manner as I could muster, when all I was feeling was despair, ‘has just moved into Year 11 at Beddingfield High, but there appear to be some clashes of personality… Could we see Mr Donoghue, please?’

‘Well, not without an appointment. And itisMonday morning, one of the busiest days of the week as you can imagine. We always have any weekend problems to sort out?—’

‘We don’t mind waiting,’ I jumped in. ‘Sorrel’s father’ – I pointed in the direction of Jayden, who was now standing by the main entrance making a phone call – ‘has to be in Aberdeen this evening and needs to be on his way.’

‘I’m sorry, really…’ To be fair, the receptionist did appear to be just that. She glanced down at what I assumed to be a diary as Jayden finished his call and joined us once more. ‘I can make an appointment for you to see Mr Donoghue on, erm, erm…’ more turning of pages ‘…Thursday?’

‘Oh! I know you! Jayden Allen?’ The receptionist was interrupted in her perusal of the diary by a tall, well-built man in a maroon tracksuit appearing round the open door at the back ofthe secretary’s office. ‘ItisJayden Allen, isn’t it? Or, if not, you sure as hell are his double.’

The office staff, Sorrel and I immediately shifted our attention from the man in the doorway to Jayden, and then back to the man.

‘I love your stuff. Been a fan since I saw you play in Leeds when I was fifteen.’

‘Oh, really?’ Jayden ran a hand over his braided hair, obviously delighted at the recognition. ‘That’s great to hear – my music does have quite a following in Scandinavia, but not as much in this country.’

‘You’re wrong there. Who told you that? I heard you on Radio 1 last week. The new album you have out?’ The man beamed in Jayden’s direction, the smile lighting up his whole face. He was probably of the same heritage as Jayden, but while Jayden had always insisted on wearing his hair in the style he felt best accompanied his music, this other man’s was short, and he was clean-shaven. He stepped fully into the doorway, almost filling it with his height and width – this was one big man – before crossing through the office and out into the reception area where we stood waiting.

‘Nearly time for assembly, Mason,’ the receptionist reminded him as though speaking to a recalcitrant child rather than the head teacher it was now clear he was. ‘You were late last week as well, and you know you always insist on taking Monday’s assembly yourself.’

Smiling beguilingly back at the receptionist, he held out his hand to Jayden before glancing across at Sorrel and me.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I have to get out of this tracksuit – need to set a good example to the kids – and take assembly. You’re wanting a meeting with regards to…?’ He raised an eyebrow in Sorrel’s direction, holding her own defiant stare until, seemingly on theback foot, she rubbed at her eyes, twirled a finger through her long dark hair and eventually looked away.

‘This is Sorrel, Jayden’s daughter – and my sister.’ I spoke quickly, not holding back: I could see there was no point. ‘Sorrel has… she’s… she’s lost her place at Beddingfield High. We’d really like you to find her a place here if you can. The alternative is the?—’

‘The PRU? Pupil referral unit?’ Mason Donoghue’s voice was firm as he finished my sentence. ‘Come to that, has it, Sorrel? And what makes you think we’d be prepared to take you here?’

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