Page 120 of Don't Tell Teacher

‘Mrs Kinnock,’ Faye asks. ‘Is there anything you want to talk about?’

I nod. Then silently, I unbutton my shirt cuff and roll up a sleeve, showing the yellow-green bruise on my shoulder and the carpet-burn cut on my elbow.

Olly sits bolt upright, staring at my arm. His eyes still have the languid look of morphine in them as they blink, confused and scared. He’s not quite here. Not quite understanding.

Faye stares at the marks. ‘Mrs Kinnock? What are you telling me?’

I swallow, taking deep breaths, summoning all my courage.

Finally, I manage to get the words out.

‘Olly did this. He threw me down the stairs.’

There’s an awful, heavy silence.

Then Olly starts shouting and swearing, calling me unhinged, psycho, a lying bitch.

Faye asks him to leave.

He won’t at first, but she threatens to call the police and he limps outside.

I see him at the doorway, a black cloud, pacing back and forth, gait unsteady. He pulls an all too familiar blister-pack of codeine from his pocket, pops out a handful of pills – four or five, probably, I can’t see – and throws them into his mouth.

In the suddenly silent room, Faye wants to know why I didn’t mention these bruises before.

‘Because I’m ashamed,’ I say. ‘Ashamed that I stay with a man who does this to me. That I had a child with him. And that I’m too pathetic to leave. But I never thought he’d hurt Tom. Never.’

‘Does your husband hurt your son? Is that what you’re telling me?’

‘I’ve never seen it,’ I say. ‘I’d have left a long time ago if I had. But I’m not sure I know my own mind right now. Olly is very good at … manipulating things. Making me see things that aren’t there. And he takes so much medication these days. Then he drinks on top of that … It makes him aggressive. I never thought he’d be capable of this, but …’

‘Mrs Kinnock, do you think your husband caused Tom’s injury?’

‘It’s … possible.’ Tears come. ‘Living with Olly – sometimes it’s hard to know what to think. I didn’t want to believe it, but what other explanation is there?’ I break down again then, head in my hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ I stutter. ‘If Olly’s been hurting Tom and I’ve let it happen …’

‘It’s okay.’ Faye puts her hands over mine. ‘It’s okay.’

But it’s not okay.

Not okay at all.

Kate

5.25 p.m.

The Neilson brothers are in good spirits, testing the family centre’s play equipment to the maximum.

Lloyd has already broken a plastic penguin slide and is now kicking the swings. He is full of energy, having been given a three-litre bottle of Coca Cola by Leanne before he arrived.

Lloyd innocently shared this news with joy and gratitude: ‘We were lucky, Kate. We gotbigCoke for lunch. My favourite!’

I suppose when you’re used to missing meals, the larger the bottle of coke the better.

‘Stop it,’ I shout, as Lloyd kicks the heavy swing high in the air. ‘Lloyd!’ Joey, half asleep on my lap, gives a start.

‘What?’ Lloyd turns with feigned innocence.

‘Stop doing that.’

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