Page 55 of Don't Tell Teacher

A girl with curly black hair stands on the doorstep. I’m surprised by how young she looks, given the maturity of her voice. She wears an odd mixture of clothing – a smart, sleeveless shift dress, cheap charm bracelet, thick black tights and summer sandals. There’s something about her makeup that reminds me of a little girl playing dress-up.

‘Can I help you?’ I ask.

‘Hello, Miss Riley.’ She reaches out to shake my hand. Her voice is clipped and direct. No nonsense. ‘My name is Kate Noble. I’m from Child Services. Excuse the unannounced visit, but the phone number we had for you didn’t work. Ididsend a letter. Can I come in?’

I return her handshake, my fingers stiff. ‘I’m Lizzie.’

‘Did you get our letter?’

‘I did get something in the post,’ I admit, remembering the brown envelope from a few weeks ago, still unopened and shoved next to the bread bin. ‘I haven’t read it yet. Sorry.’

‘Can I come in?’ Kate rearranges her leather folder. ‘There are a few things I’d like to discuss.’

‘I’m guessing about the walk-in clinic? Yes, I’d like to discuss that too.’

Kate meets my eye. ‘Can I come inside?’

‘Shouldn’t you have someone else with you? A family support worker or something?’

‘No. Not for a standard visit.’

I step back. ‘Okay. Well, come in. Tom’s sleeping on the sofa.’

‘That’s all right.’ Kate looks around. ‘This is beautiful. Very light. I love the sweeping staircase. And all the plants.’

Realising that the only furniture we have to sit on is the occupied sofa, an island on a parquet-wood sea, Kate says, ‘I’ll just sit on the floor.’

‘I can get you a chair from upstairs?’

‘No, honestly. It’s fine.’ Kate kneels in front of Tom, crossing her sandals awkwardly under herself. ‘Okay. Let’s start from the beginning. What do you like to be called? Elizabeth? Miss Riley?’

‘You can call me Lizzie.’ I perch back on the sofa arm.

‘The original plan was to do a sign-off visit,’ Kate explains, ‘just to check how you were coping on your own. And then bring this case to a close. But we had a report I’d like to talk about. The drop-in clinic report. I’m sure you’re aware, the nurse noticed some unusual marks on Tom’s arm last week.’

‘Yes. I know. I’ve spoken to the school, but no one will tell me anything. Tom hasn’t been well since he started at that place. And he’s been acting so strangely.’

‘Children can act up when they’re stressed,’ says Kate. ‘Starting a new school is scary. Before you know it he’ll be a teenager with his shirt hanging out, acting more strangely than you could possibly imagine.’

‘This school is scarier than most. Trust me.’

‘Doyouhave any idea how he got these marks?’

‘None. And believe me, I’ve considered every possibility. School is the only time he’s away from me. I’ve spoken to his teacher. The headmaster. They’ve just sort of written the marks off. “Couldn’t possibly have happened in our care.” The school … it’s a funny place. Ideally, I’d like to move him somewhere else.’

Kate frowns. ‘I wouldn’t recommend that. I’m sorry to put it this way, but if you moved your son again so soon, it would look like you had something to hide. Troubled families often move a lot. I’m sure you don’t want to be tarnished with that brush.’

‘No. I absolutely don’t.’

‘Has Tom seen his father since you moved? He’s supposed to have supervised visitation—’

‘Tom doesn’t want to see his father. That supercedes everything.’

‘So there’s no relationship?’

‘Olly doesn’t even know where we live.’ I look at my tea mug, brown liquid quivering against porcelain. ‘He’s dangerous.’

‘So there’s been no contact since the move? Not even phone calls?’

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