Mila and Aria stood, suddenly shy and embarrassed, getting the giggles, reluctant to speak.
‘Ger on with it then,’ Riley censured. ‘It’s nearly home time and I’m off to footie.’
The girls read together, Robyn encouraging and, gaining confidence, they finally got to the last sentence.
‘…and protruding from his gnarled grey head were two enormous, twisted testicles!’
‘Fabulous,’ Robyn enthused. ‘Really fabulous!’
* * *
‘Miss?’
‘Blane?’ Robyn looked up briefly from marking 7BW’s creative writing, sighing from trying to decipher Stanley Wilcox’s sentences. Was Learning Support doing anything with him?
‘So, Miss, you know your boyfriend?’
‘Well, I know him, Blane. I’m not aware that you do.’
‘He were that bloke that came with you to our house a few months ago, wasn’t he? You made out he was another teacher or a social worker.’
‘I don’t think I did, Blane. Your mum just assumed that’s who he was.’
‘Anyway, you know, Miss, you brought him round when you came over looking for me. And I know he’s your boyfriend ’cos, you know, I ended up staying with your Jess for a couple of nights when I got locked in the girls’ bogs in school. When my mum was off her head again? Jess told me you’d had some barrister boyfriend in London when you were on the stage down there. You’d fallen out with him, and that’s why you were back up here. Anyhow, we know who he is now.’
I’d have words with Jess when I saw her, gossiping about me to one of my pupils.
‘Oh?’ I said, crossly. ‘And who’s we?’
‘Well, the Matrix.’
‘The Matrix?’
‘That’s what we call him,’ Blane said proudly. ‘He’s in charge of our lot.’
‘Right, OK. And?’
‘And what?’
‘Well, you’re obviously here to tell me something, Blane.’
‘He’s the bloke from London who was sorting the Soho Slasher, isn’t he?’
When Robyn didn’t confirm or deny – there was no way she was about to discuss her personal life with this whippety kid – he came closer and went on. ‘He did well, didn’t he?’
‘Blane, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. If something’s worrying you about school, tell me and I’ll talk it over with you.’
‘Worrying me? About school?’ Blane gave a sneery little laugh. ‘Nowt here in this dump to worry me. Look, d’you want to know or what?’
‘Know what, Blane?’
‘So, your friend – yourboyfriend, Miss – he did a great job getting Joel Sinclair off his charge. So, he’s going to be working forusnow.’
‘Joel is?’ Jesus, that’s all she needed, Sorrel’s boyfriend still being mixed up in supplying drugs.
‘Joel? No, notJoel.’ Blane tutted. ‘He’s gone soft. Doing his GCSEs. Still wants to be a bloody fairy ballet dancer. He’s going straight.’
‘Who then?’ Robyn stared. ‘If you don’t mean Joel.’
