Bad Little Girl(21)
‘No, get it out, Mother.’
Norma put her hand – old, thin – on Claire’s wrist. ‘You never toughened up, Claire. You’re too soft. And you can be taken advantage of. And that’s why I was always in two minds about you being a teacher. You’re too trusting, too soft. How can I put it – situations themselves take advantage of you. You are the only person who’s been hearing alarm bells about this particular girl. Why is that?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t even know if that’s true. Her teacher may well have. And teachers miss things all the time. Jade—’
‘What I mean is, is this girl seeking you out for some reason?’
‘No. I don’t think so. I think I’ve just happened to be there—’
‘Have you thought that perhaps you seek her out?’
‘What?’ Claire almost laughed, but Norma looked grim.
‘Perhaps you create situations where you will be called on to save people. There. That’s what I mean.’
‘I don’t know what you mean at all.’ But something novel and painful edged into her mind.
‘Don’t you? All those children that used to come round here when you were small, and you leading them about like Mother Goose. You made it obvious that you wanted to talk to them, and heal them, or whatever. And so they did. And maybe that’s what’s happening with this girl. You started that Christmas Cracker group and made sure she was in with all the other lame ducks. You hang around the playground looking out for the waifs and strays after school. If you’re there, waiting to be needed, then you are needed—’ Norma broke off and coughed. Johnny trotted over and put his paws on her thigh, while Norma waved Claire to the kitchen to get water.
‘Have you been to the doctor’s about that cough yet?’
Norma rolled her eyes. ‘You see what I mean?’
‘No. No I don’t. Have you been to the doctor’s?’
‘Yes I have. And it’s a cough. That’s all it is. But if you get worried, I’ll get worried and I don’t like to be worried. You know what he recommended? Benylin. I’m fine. And this is what I mean, you wait around for a hint of trouble, and then swoop in to help, but you might well be making the problem worse. Just by caring too much.’
Claire furtively wiped her eyes and took a shallow breath. ‘I think the problem with the world is that people don’t care enough,’ she muttered.
‘People care as much as they can, as much as their nature allows them to. And you can’t compensate for others’ lack by caring too much. You have a vision of children, Claire, that sometimes verges on the religious. It’s as if you want to save them from the sin of adulthood.’
‘I know they’re not saints—’
‘Do you? I’m not sure about that.’
There was a long silence then, and neither looked at the other. Johnny whined at the door. The clock ticked.
Claire had intended to stay for the evening but didn’t, and on the drive back to her flat she tried to think about Norma’s words, but full understanding eluded her. Mother really ought to get that cough looked at again. She was thinner too.
* * *
Tuesday morning, and Claire had been in school since seven, reacquainting herself with Lorna’s school file, as well as Carl’s. What a catalogue of disaster that family was. Dyslexia, dyspraxia, ADHD, everything. No mention of a father, a grandmother in prison, Carl’s colourful school career – the stealing, the exclusions, the unfortunate fire during harvest festival – was all there, as was Lorna’s mistake with the erasers and a few little skirmishes in the playground. Nothing on the mother’s ‘partner’, but Claire was sure there’d be mentions of him in the court reports in the local paper. She must find out his surname and check. And what about the neighbour – what was his surname? Oh, why hadn’t she asked?
By the time she was sitting in James’ office, sipping weak tea, she was exhausted. James was studiously ignoring her, frowning at his computer screen and clicking angrily. At ten there was a knock on the door, it opened with no pause, and Lorna was propelled into the room by Ruth, the office manager. Lorna’s hair was pinned up in messy bunches and her cheeks were suspiciously pink. A smear of lipstick, inexpertly rubbed into the skin. She smiled happily and arranged herself on a swivel chair. Claire sat on her left, James frowned behind his desk by the window.
‘Miss.’ She nodded to Claire, and turned, beaming, to James. ‘Hello Mr Clarke.’
‘Lorna.’ James finally turned away from the screen. ‘Lorna. Would you like a glass of water?’
‘No. Thank you.’
‘Miss Penny – can you make sure the door’s closed? Lorna, there’s nothing to worry about, but I’d like to have a bit of a chat. About home. Is that OK?’
The girl giggled nervously. ‘Home!’
‘Yes. Just a – Miss Penny? Shut, is it? – few questions. You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.’
Lorna glanced at Claire, worried now. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Nothing, Lorna. Nothing. Just – well, you remember when Miss Penny took you home the other day? Well, after that we had a talk with your mum, just to find out why she didn’t come to collect you—’