She always asked herself the same questions. What had gone through his mind when the lorry hit them? Was he scared? Did he feel the impact? What was it like for him when he died?
TWENTY-TWO
Tuesday 29 September
Nancy stood on the edge of a very large hole. It was twice her height at the end where she looked down, tapering to a few inches deep way down at the other end of the teardrop shape it made in her back garden.
It was magnificent. Or at least it would be in another few weeks once the gravel and plant filtering system was in place and it was filled with water. The natural pool company had made up a CGI image of the final article and where Nancy was standing there would be a cluster of natural boulders, designed to sunbathe against, or jump off into the clear water below.
‘Big enough?’ asked Dean, with a smile. He’d come outside to see the pool in its partially built state.
It was ten metres long and six metres wide. Plenty of room to swim. Nancy still couldn’t quite believe that it was hers, in her own garden. It didn’t feel real.
‘Just imagine,’ said Dean, indicating with his hand. ‘A dragonfly darts across the surface, its wings iridescent green.Purple irises framing the bank. Crystal-clear warm water to dip your toes in.’
She laughed, embarrassed. ‘It feels so decadent.’
‘Hey, you paid for it, you enjoy it,’ said Dean.
He was right, she knew, she just wasn’t used to being able to do things like this. It felt weird. But the rich did things like this all the time without a thought, she reminded herself. Nancy looked down at her pocket. Her phone was ringing. The number had come up as the school.
‘Excuse me,’ she said to Dean and moved away.
‘Hello?’
‘Mrs Miller? It’s Esther here from the office at Ripton Primary. I’m afraid there’s been an accident. Nothing serious,’ she quickly added, ‘but I think you should come and pick Lara up.’
TWENTY-THREE
Tuesday 29 September
Nancy was aware of the entrance CCTV camera pointing at her and wondered why those at the other end, looking at the screen, were taking so long to answer her call. What were they saying? Were they talking about her? She wanted to get to Lara. Then she was buzzed in at the gate and it automatically opened at what felt like one millimetre an hour. Her frustration building, she waited for the smallest possible gap and then slipped through and hurried across the playground. She passed several classrooms, set back from the play area, but through the windows she could see glimpses of children sitting at desks, facing towards the teachers. She realized she didn’t know which was Lara’s class. Did she spend most of her day in one of these rooms she was passing now?
Esther had told her very little on the phone: something about a game that had gone wrong and Lara had received a bump to the head, and then Esther had layered it on thick about how they’d followed protocol, got the icepack, made sure Lara was in a ‘comfortable’ and ‘safe’ environmentwhere she could rest. She was checked regularly. They didn’t usually call out the parents if a child got a minor injury but a bump to the head was occasionally an exception. They liked to ‘notify Mum just to be on the safe side’.
Nancy got to the entrance door of the school and had to buzz again. She was let in and a woman got up from a desk and pulled aside a glass panel that separated the office from the visitors.
‘I’m Nancy, Lara’s mum.’
The woman smiled. ‘Esther, office manager. We spoke on the phone.’ Esther came out from the office and, using her staff pass, buzzed another door at the end of the reception area. ‘She’s in here. Our sick bay.’ Nancy was led past a couple of closed doors, noting that one was marked ‘Head teacher’, and then further down the corridor into a small room adorned with cheerful pictures and bright yellow plastic chairs. Lara was seated on one of the chairs, clutching an icepack to the side of her head. She looked up as Nancy came in and then lowered her eyes again.
‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ said Esther, backing out.
Nancy went to sit next to Lara and gave her a hug. ‘Let’s have a look at you,’ she said, pulling the icepack away from Lara’s head.
Underneath, just visible through her hair, was a large lump.Jesus, thought Nancy.
‘Ouch,’ she said out loud. ‘That’s quite a bump.’
Lara was uncharacteristically quiet.
Nancy smiled at her. ‘Did you trip?’
Her daughter shook her head.
‘So what happened? The lady in the office said a game had got out of hand or something.’
‘It was Rosie,’ said Lara. ‘She hit me on the head with her lunchbox. Full,’ she added, for emphasis.
