My Husband's Wife(34)

‘I said we would do that. But the nuns told me it was too late.’

Carla only hoped it was not too late to go back to Sundays with Lily and Ed.

‘I will ask.’ Mamma sighed now, as though she was sighing the wrong way round, where the breath came into her wide red mouth, instead of out. ‘But you must go to school this instant. Promise?’

Carla nodded. ‘Promise.’

Mamma held out her face for a kiss but Carla ignored it. Instead, she made her way towards the school gates and another day of misery.

‘Eeetalian!’

‘Why do you speak all funny?’

‘Why have you got hairs on your arm like a man?’

‘They’re as furry as your eyebrows!’

The taunts came thick and fast, as they did every day now.

‘What are you going to nick next, then? My dad says all Italians are thieves. They nicked my auntie’s handbag in Rome.’

This last comment was from a thickset boy with a face like a dog she had seen in the park. A bulldog, Ed had called it.

‘I do not nick nothing.’

‘Anything, Carla.’ The bony-nosed teacher’s sharp voice cut into the conversation. ‘The correct word is “anything”. And what is this about stealing?’

‘Carla stole my friend’s pencil case. I told you. But no one would believe me ’cause he socked her with the football.’

It was no good. She couldn’t help the burning flush creeping up her cheek. ‘It is not true.’

The teacher’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure?’

She sat up straight. ‘Very.’

‘I see.’ The teacher nodded before moving on to the next table.

‘Liar, liar,’ chanted the children.

If Charlie was here – the real Charlie – he would tell her to ignore them. But instead she had an impostor (she was on the ‘I’s now in her dictionary), who just sat on her lap and did nothing.

‘Liar, liar.’

‘If you do not stop, then God will punish you.’ Carla’s eyes flashed at Jean, the girl who was nearest and loudest. ‘You will die!’

There was a shocked silence. Carla was shocked at herself too. She was not even sure where the words had come from.

‘Carla Cavoletti! Leave the table this instant.’

Good. That was exactly what she wanted. Head high, she sailed out of the dining room and into the corridor.

‘You will sit there for the rest of the afternoon.’

Good again. She would not be bullied if she wasn’t in the classroom. It was then that Carla had her idea. She knew now just what she needed from Larry next.

‘I hate school,’ Carla declared over and over again that evening. The teacher had, of course, told Mamma about the detention. Carla had tried to explain her side of the story. But Mamma was cross with her.

‘I have told you, cara mia. You have to fit in with these Eenglish.’

For the first time she could remember, Carla wished Larry would visit that night so she could get on with her plan. Mamma was expecting him because she had put on her pink dress and sprayed Apple Blossom down her chest. But then the phone had rung. Larry’s wife needed him after all. Mamma was desolate. And so was Carla.

The next morning, when she dawdled through the school gates, there was a strange air of quietness in the playground. The others were huddled in groups, shooting her horrible looks.

There were whispers. The name ‘Jean’ was said several times.

‘What has happened?’ Carla asked one of the girls who sat at the front of the class and was not quite as nasty as the others.

But the girl shied away as if Carla was a dangerous dog. ‘Do not come near me.’

When they trooped into assembly, Carla finally understood. ‘Sadly, we have some bad news,’ began the headmistress. Her eyes were red like Mamma’s had been last night after Larry had phoned. ‘Jean Williams was knocked down by a car last night on her way back from Brownies. She is in hospital and, I’m afraid to say, very poorly.’

In hospital? Jean Williams? The girl who had been horrid yesterday? The one who she had told would die?

Carla became uncomfortably aware that the girls on either side of her were moving away. Several people were turning round to look at her warily. That day in the playground, no one taunted her. No one spoke to her.

By the end of the week, Carla was neither eating nor sleeping. When she did eventually drift off, she dreamed of Jean falling under the wheels of Larry’s shiny car. Then she would wake up screaming.

‘What is wrong, cara mia?’ said her mother, stroking her brow. ‘Is it because of that poor little girl?’

All the parents knew about it. A letter had been sent home about ‘road sense’.

It was my fault, Carla wanted to say. But something held her back. If she could make Mamma continue to feel sorry for her, she would succeed with her plan.

‘The others, they are not nice to me,’ she said instead. ‘Jean … Jean was the only kind one.’

The lie slipped out of her mouth so easily that it felt like the truth.

‘My sweet.’ Mamma’s eyes filled with tears. ‘What can I do to make you feel better?’

This was her chance! ‘I want to go to a different school. The one that wears brown uniform and doesn’t take boys.’