Bad Little Girl(42)

‘I’m back in January.’

‘They’ll be desperate for you back, I’d say.’

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘Desperate, I’d say. You have a way with the horrors. Sometimes, when Pippa feels a bit low about our decision, I tell her, think of the mess, think of the expense. No free time. If you want kids, do a stint teaching, that’s what I say. That should change your mind!’

‘Oh, it’s a lovely job, Derek.’

‘I’m sure it is. Sure it is. But you get paid for it. That’s what I’ve said to Pippa. Claire gets paid for it. No money in motherhood, is there?’

‘Maybe there should be.’ Claire smiled. ‘If there was money in it, perhaps people would be better at it.’

‘Or have even more kids on the public teat. Kids, big screen TVs, fags, holidays. No. We should pay people not to have kids, that’s what I think. Send the sterilising wagons down the estates, a quick tube tie, and buy them off with an Xbox. That’s what I’d do!’

‘Oh Derek—’

‘Well, it’s a solution, isn’t it?’

‘A solution to what?’

‘A solution to the godawful mess this country’s got itself into. Oh, I know you think I’m some kind of – I don’t know – reactionary or something. But I’m a do-er, not a thinker. And that’s what we need more of, do-ers.’

‘I think you’re trying to get a rise out of me, Derek,’ smiled Claire.

‘Well, Claire, I am and I’m not. Come on now. You’ve worked with these kids year after year. You’ve seen what bad parenting has done to them. You know that they’ll end up making exactly the same mistakes. And on and on it goes. See that little smile? You know I’m right. You do, don’t you?’

‘I think that some families need more support—’

‘Support! They want locking up. That little lass the other day, killed by the family dog. Why on God’s green earth would a baby need a pit bull for a pet? And that little girl, the one in your school – Jane?’

‘Jade Wood.’

‘Jade, yes, that was it. Half-starved, and by her own parents!’ He shook his head.

Claire thought of Lorna. Lorna in her house full of dogs, and men, and the smell of chips and damp and dirt. There was no way of knowing how she was, if she was safe. The last two nights Claire had had terrible dreams: the dull, terrible thump of the child's head against the door, the eventual creaking shatter of the glass, and Lorna’s muted, painful grunt as her head appeared, eyes staring, from between the trembling shards. Her staying there, trapped, while Pete ranted, his red face just visible through the frame, and Claire, frozen, staring at the child’s blank eyes, unable to move, unable even to comprehend what she’d seen. That it hadn’t actually happened like that was pure luck; she’d intervened before Pete had managed to put Lorna’s head all the way through the glass. But what if she’d been too late? What if she hadn’t been there at all?

‘There, look, I’ve depressed you now. Sorry, Claire. Silly topic of conversation. At the end of the day, people like you make all the difference. Caring. And I know you’re not a person of faith, but it’s God’s love you’re spreading.’

‘How much have you had to drink?’ Claire smiled.

‘Hand on heart, Claire, I’m a bit pissed. But I mean what I say. You’re a good woman. And here’s to you.’ He extended his glass unsteadily, wine slopping on his mother-in-law’s plate. ‘Any more booze in the fridge, Pip?’

Claire drank the rest of her wine in three gulps. ‘It is a hard job, Derek, though. Teaching. You can get very close to some of the kiddies, they can be so sweet and so trusting. There’s this one girl—’

‘Oh they’re sweet enough when they’re small, I’ll give you that. But before you know it you’ve got a great hulking adolescent mucking up the bathroom—’

‘—She’s ten now. And she’s taken a bit of a shine to me. And, yes she is one of those children from a bad family. You know, what you were saying, with the dogs and everything. And she tells me, not really tells me, but hints, you know, that things aren’t good at home. Not safe. And, and, well I’ve seen things myself. And the problem is Derek, that, well, I feel like I’m in over my head a little—’

‘Pippa? Any more wine in there?’

‘—And because she’s told me things in confidence, you know, I don’t know how I can go about telling the police or anyone without her losing confidence in me—’

‘Lots of girls have confidence issues. Until they turn into teenagers, and then it’s all miniskirts and sex.’

‘Not that kind of confidence, Derek. I mean trust. In me.’

Derek turned his clouded eyes to her. ‘But I do trust you, Claire. What a thing to say! Pip! Wine?’



* * *



After a disappointingly small whisky and a confusing game of Pictionary, Claire snuck upstairs to use the phone on the landing. She really ought to have a mobile. Lorna had told her to get one just a few weeks ago and she should have listened to her, then she could have gone outside and had a private chat without worrying about Derek blundering in and overhearing. The passive-aggressive sound of Christmas carols filtered out of the kitchen, as Pippa banged pans into the dishwasher and grumbled at the mess. Claire sat down on the floor and took a few deep breaths before she dialled Lorna’s number on Derek and Pip’s old rotary phone. Her nails dug into the deep pile of the carpet; adrenaline flooded her chest and stomach. An answer. Carl. Claire pictured his empty, pugnacious face, wondered if he’d think it odd that an unknown adult was calling his ten-year-old sister on Christmas Day, decided it was unlikely.