Blink(21)

But for us, it was even more significant. I was being a fairly crap mum at the moment, but when it came down to it, Evie being happy was number one in my priorities. If her first day at school went well, that would be a massive step towards carving out our new life.

My beeping phone broke me out of my thoughts, the satnav informing me I had now arrived at my destination. I parked up on a little side street and bought a parking ticket for a two-hour duration.

Slipping on my jacket, I grabbed my handbag and tried to ignore my heart battering against my ribcage.

I set off across the road towards the double-fronted, professional-looking estate agency that was Gregory’s Property Services.

My heart felt light and hopeful; my stomach was riddled with knots.





19





Three Years Earlier





The Teacher





After lunch, Harriet Watson led the small group of children into the infant library area.

The library was used only for literacy hour in the mornings, so she didn’t anticipate being disturbed. Despite it being an open-plan design, she had a good view of the corridor outside in both directions.

Harriet had selected four children for today’s group session. The idea was to remove children with particular difficulties or needs from the main class, making it easier for the teacher to manage and yet giving the small group more focused attention.

Years ago, the teacher was expected to run the whole group with no complaints, but of course, these days, they spoon-fed them. They fell out of university with their teaching degrees, and a whole roster of expectations and demands that were expected to be met by other hard-pressed staff like herself.

Fortunately for Harriet, this was the second year she’d acted as teaching assistant to Jasmeen Akhtar, a thin, meek young woman who seemed to rely on Harriet’s advice and opinions far more than she ought. But Harriet wasn’t complaining. It meant she got to choose the children she worked with. And she always chose the more pliant or interesting ones.

She glanced around the group. Some of them she recognised from last year’s reception class. She’d take a group every now and then to get them accustomed to ‘big class’, as it was informally known within the school.

Today, there was Matilda White, an insipid-looking girl who barely said a word, Jack Farnborough, who was dyslexic, and Thomas Manton, who was just plain stupid, although, irritatingly, nobody was allowed to use that word to describe a child nowadays.

And, of course, there was the new girl who had caught her eye from the off: Evie Cotter.

Harriet relished being the one in charge in this neat little space. It was the best thing about her job, being able to get on with things with the children without Jasmeen quoting from her Teaching and Learning Strategies textbook. Harriet found it laughable; Jasmeen was barely out of nappies herself.

Harriet handed out the worksheets, the same ones she would use most weeks. Not as though this hopeless shower would notice.

The other children’s faces already displayed bored expressions, but Harriet watched as Evie pulled her worksheet towards her and studied it carefully.

She also noticed that Evie kept glancing up at Harriet, as if seeking reassurance that she was doing OK, doing what the teacher expected of her.

This was always a good sign.

Harriet sat down at the head of the large, round table and looked around at them.

‘Well, we are a lucky bunch today because we have someone here who is a newcomer to Nottingham,’ she began. ‘Welcome, Evie.’

Evie’s eyes flickered over at the others before she looked down at the table again. She adjusted her worksheet and pencil so they sat a little straighter on the desk.

‘Welcome, Evie,’ Harriet said again.

‘Thank you,’ the girl mumbled, still looking down.

The others stared.

‘I thought it would be nice if you told us a bit about yourself, Evie,’ Harriet said, watching her blank face. ‘Such as where you lived, before coming to Nottingham, and what sort of activities you like to do out of school.’

The rest of the group looked at Harriet and then expectantly back at Evie, as if a table tennis match was about to start.

The girl rubbed over her worksheet with an index finger, like she was trying to erase the print.

‘Well?’

‘We lived in Hemel Hempstead before,’ Evie said slowly.

Harriet remained silent.

‘And I like playing with Lego and watching television after school. And I like drawing.’

‘Interesting.’ Harriet nodded. ‘Has anyone got another question for Evie?’

‘Have you got any pets?’ Jack Farnborough asked.

The girl began rubbing the corner of her worksheet again but she didn’t speak.

‘Evie?’ Harriet prompted.

‘We had a rabbit at our old house,’ Evie said. ‘A black and white one. His name was Carlos.’

‘Carlos,’ Thomas Manton repeated.

‘What happened to the rabbit?’ Jack asked. ‘Did you have it put down when you moved house?’

An expression of pure horror crossed Evie’s face.

‘We gave him to Mr Baxter,’ she said. ‘For when his grandchildren, Daisy and Tom, come round to visit.’

‘Any more questions?’ Harriet looked around at the blank faces.