Page 44 of Don't Tell Teacher

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

I justknowit’s work.

‘I’ll be back in a minute, okay?’ I tell Col.

‘Where are you going?’ Col bobs his head, which is the closest he gets to cutting loose on the dance floor. This is a good time for him, having a few drinks and a dance. I don’t want to complain about how exhausted I am, or admit that work stuff is running around my head.

‘Just … I’ll be right back.’

At the front of the house, I find Rebecca having a sneaky cigarette. She’s dressed as Princess Leia, with fake wool plaits wound around her ears.

‘Don’t tell Julie,’ Rebecca whispers. ‘But her band are giving me a headache.’

‘Me too,’ I admit. In my jeans pocket, my phone vibrates again.

‘They’ve got better, though,’ Rebecca decides. ‘Now they’ve ditched that accordion.’

‘This is work,’ I say, holding up my phone. ‘They’ve called twice. I should call them back.’

Rebecca blows a long stream of smoke. ‘Col’s not going to be happy. You’re sostressed, Kate. They shouldn’t be calling you out-of-hours.’

‘I said they could. There are people off sick. I have two missed calls. It must be something important.’

‘I’m sure everything will be fine.’

‘Nothing is ever fine in this job,’ I say. ‘I feel like I’m failing.’ Tears come, and I’m embarrassed.

‘Oh, don’t be silly. You are a highly competent person. You get up at six a.m. to exercise.’

‘Used to. Don’t any more. I can barely keep up with this workload, let alone have a hobby.’

‘I think you’ve got to cut a few corners, Kate,’ says Rebecca. ‘This is the public sector. It’s what everyone does.’

‘You know me. I can’t cut corners.’

Rebecca laughs. ‘I know. Not ticking every box gives you anxiety.’

I walk a little way down the street and call the office.

The out-of-hours team pick up immediately. ‘Children’s Services.’

‘Hi, Helen.’ I press the phone to my ear. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Kate. Thank God you phoned back. We had a call from Hammersmith and Fulham. Tom Kinnock’s father has found the social services out-of-hours site. The duty officer is all shaken up. He’s making all sorts of threats, worse than before. She doesn’t know what to do and nor do I.’

‘Call the police,’ I say. ‘There’s nothing we can do. We can’t reveal the mother’s location. And Tom doesn’t want to see his father. If a child doesn’t want to see their parent, no one can force a supervised visit. It all comes down to what Tom wants.’

This is the standard social worker answer, but it’s notmyanswer. I would encourage Tom to see his father in a safe environment, try and move things forward. That’s the trouble with this job. I’m rule-abiding, but the rules here are often impossible to follow.

‘I don’t think he’s going to like that,’ says Helen.

‘Of course he won’t. But he shouldn’t be stalking the out-of-hours team.’

I end the call with knots in my stomach, knowing I haven’t solved anything, fixed anything, done anything except make Tom Kinnock’s father even more furious.

It sounds like he’s already on edge.

Oh God.

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