Blink(42)

‘Oh, hello there.’ I stood up and walked into the kitchen, pushing the door closed behind me. Although a part of me wondered why Evie’s teacher was calling, the tablet was already working its magic. I felt relaxed and able to deal with the conversation. ‘I hope everything is OK, Miss Watson?’

A few moments silence, as if Harriet was waiting for me to say something else.

‘Evie has had a quiet first week,’ Miss Watson said. ‘She seems cautious when it comes to getting fully involved in lessons and mixing with her classmates. But I’m sure she’ll get into the swing of things before long.’

‘I don’t think she’s made any friends yet.’ Without warning, my eyes prickled. ‘She got upset again today, said she didn’t want to come to school on Monday. But she won’t talk to me about it.’

‘Evie doesn’t seem to be adjusting quite as readily as we’d hoped,’ Harriet agreed. ‘One of the reasons I’ve called is to tell you that I’ve included her in my small group work, to give her a little more personal attention. I hope that’s acceptable.’

‘That’s really good of you, Miss Watson,’ I said gratefully. ‘Thank you.’

‘I do hope you don’t feel I’m interfering, but in my experience it’s very important we do as much as we can in school to help children to integrate effectively right from the start, particularly when there have been . . . rather difficult personal circumstances,’ Harriet said. ‘I’m going to be running some after-school workshops two or three days a week. They’ll be one-to-one sessions, designed to build confidence and social skills and to prepare children for the challenges that may lie ahead. I can only take one or two pupils, but I have selected Evie because I believe she’ll benefit tremendously from attending. If you’ll agree to it, that is?’

There were a few seconds of silence as I processed what she’d said.

‘Absolutely,’ I said at last. ‘Thank you, that sounds ideal.’

I felt the weight on my shoulders lift. At last, someone was trying to help me instead of placing yet another obstacle in my path.

I listened as she gave me details of the forthcoming sessions.

‘It’s best if you don’t keep asking Evie about school,’ Harriet continued. ‘We can tell her she’s been specially chosen for the after-school club, which indeed she has, and hopefully we’ll see better results next week.’

This woman seemed to really understand my daughter. In just a week, she had noticed Evie’s reluctance in class and had already acted upon it. I felt quite overcome with gratitude.

‘Thanks so much for your help. Things are a little difficult at home at the moment and I really appreciate . . .’ My voice faltered.

‘Say no more. I do understand, Mrs Cotter,’ Harriet soothed. ‘I’ll be in touch with the days you’ll need to pick Evie up a little later from school.’

‘I’ll tell my mother,’ I said.

‘Sorry?’

I fell silent. For a second, I couldn’t remember what it was we were talking about.

‘Mrs Cotter?’

It came back to me.

‘Yes, I bring Evie to school each morning but her nanny picks her up at the end of the day,’ I explained. ‘I work until five o’clock, you see.’

‘I see,’ Harriet replied, a little tightly. ‘Perhaps you could change your hours? It’s very important we work together to help Evie settle in.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said quickly, shamed by a flash of guilt. ‘I’ll ask at work but I’ve only just started, so it might have to be my mum for a little while yet.’

When Harriet ended the call I felt flushed and fidgety. She’d made me feel like Mum did, like I was making purely selfish decisions about working that would impact negatively on my daughter. I should have told her to mind her own business.

I shook my head to disperse the feeling of being got at. I had to remember that at least Harriet Watson was trying to help me. Although we were nothing alike, part of me felt she somehow understood me. Knew where I was coming from.





36





Three Years Earlier





The Teacher





Harriet replaced the phone in its charging cradle and turned to see her mother standing in the doorway.

‘When?’ the old woman croaked, hobbling over to the table where Harriet sat. ‘When are you going to get everything sorted out?’

‘Soon,’ Harriet said. ‘I keep telling you, Mother, everything will be sorted very soon.’

‘It had better be. I’ve waited too long, listening to you and your pathetic promises. She needs us.’

Harriet watched her mother as she stalked from the room. It wasn’t lost on her that it would be Halloween in a matter of weeks, and from the back, the old woman resembled a sort of living ghoul, her hair scraped over her scalp in a transparent bun, her voile nightdress floating above the floor as she moved.

Soon Harriet would creep upstairs herself and make some final preparations to the room on the top floor. She knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but Mother had set her mind on what must happen and, as Harriet knew only too well, there would be no changing it now.