‘Yeah. A bit. And some of the Year 5s.’
It was Lara’s way of saying the Year 6s still wouldn’t let her in. ‘Can we go home now, Mum?’ she asked.
Nancy put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and guided her away.
Lorna watched as Nancy left. She must catch up with her on how the Christmas fair arrangements were coming along. The crowds were dwindling now and the PTA mums were starting to pack away the unsold uniforms. Lorna waited while a Reception mum paid for two cardigans, and then went to close and lock the two cashboxes. She carried them into the school and headed for the staffroom. It was empty.
Lorna opened both boxes and tipped the money onto the table. A large pile of coins mixed with several notes – some blue, some brown, and there were even a couple of purple twenties too. It surprised Lorna how much money could be generated in such a short space of time. She set about counting it, placing the notes and coins in neat piles on the table in front of her.
The total came to just over two hundred pounds. All for some second-hand clothes. It was quite a significant amount for one of the smaller fund-raising schemes. As a PTAmember for several years, she knew the big generators, the Christmas fair for example, could raise in excess of several thousand pounds.
She looked at the money. It was only her who added it up, then it would go into the office safe until the treasurer picked it up to bank it.
The clock ticked on the wall. Lorna looked up at the door, which remained firmly shut. She quickly took out a couple of tens, three fives and a few coins and opened up her bag. Inside was a small daisy print purse that she used for her shop loyalty cards. She slipped the money into it. She was careful to make sure she left the two twenties untouched – someone might remember them and query if they’d gone.
As soon as she’d done it, she felt bad. Only a little bit bad. Because hadn’t she put hours into organizing this? Weren’t there several more hours’ work ahead of her for all the other events that, as Chair, she would be overall responsible for? Hours that if used for the PTA, she couldn’t give to a paid job.
She picked up the rest of the takings and went to hand them into the office.
They’d still raised one hundred and fifty pounds. It was a good figure.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Saturday 31 October
Imogen was aware it was cruel to miss only one child out but she couldn’t invite her – the girl had tried to drown her daughter. What kind of a mother would she be if she overlooked something so big, allowed this kid to do something else to Rosie – maybe something even worse? Purely for the sake of sticking to playground protocol. Imogen shuddered. No, much better to keep it to the children she could trust.
She looked at the group of girls that had been invited. They were all completely absorbed by putting on their costumes, painting each other’s faces. Even that slightly odd child, who Rosie had only recently befriended – Mia. Imogen knew the family didn’t have much money and previously that would have brought her out in an allergic reaction, but she understood it a little now. Although heaven knows the mother could’ve made sure her daughter washed regularly and used deodorant, she thought, catching a faint whiff as she came further into Rosie’s bedroom brandishing a tray of Halloween-decorated cupcakes. She thought she sawRosie quickly stuff something into the pocket of her costume.Sweets already, she thought, inwardly rolling her eyes. From Nicole, no doubt. Nicole’s daughter Bella was always a little on the round side. She’d pretend she hadn’t seen, just this once.
‘Anyone hungry?’ she called out.
The girls squealed with excitement and their eyes lit up with wonder at the pumpkins, tombstones and ghouls Imogen had iced into the cake toppings. Imogen noticed Mia took two. She was always so skinny. It suddenly occurred to her that there might not be much to eat in her house.
‘Are you nearly ready?’ she asked the girls. ‘Only it’s almost dark. I think we should start heading out.’
The girls cheered and the excitement levels moved up another notch.
‘First: group photo,’ said Imogen, ‘to record your amazing costumes.’
They all gathered together, Rosie in the middle, of course, grabbing Tilly’s hand to make sure her bestie was by her side. The rest filled in the gaps around them, with Mia right on the edge. Imogen could only get half of her in the picture.
‘Say spiders!’ she called, and they all chorused back as she took the shot on her phone.
Imogen checked the image. Rosie looked amazing front and centre in her ghost costume with a Scream face mask. Tilly was pretty good too – a creepy clown – and you couldn’t recognize either of them now they had their masks on. The rest of the girls were also masked with theexception of Mia. Her costume was handmade and was already looking the worse for wear. She’d wrapped several sheets of toilet roll around herself and it wasn’t robust enough to withstand much movement. Her leggings and T-shirt were clearly on view. She was meant to be a mummy, Imogen supposed.
‘Ready to go trick-or-treating?’ she asked.
The exhilaration almost went off the scale. The kids left the room, a primeval energy surging through them as they bounced off each other, jostling for space in the hallway.
‘Good luck,’ said Dylan, coming into the hallway. Imogen went to kiss him. He hated these kinds of events and she’d forgiven him for not coming with her as a reward. That morning he’d had an email inviting him for an interview for the teaching position at Kingsgate. Imogen had been delighted and made a mental note to ask James what the other candidates were like.
‘Thanks,’ she said, pulling a face.
‘You sure you don’t want me to come?’
Imogen knew there was a cold beer in the fridge and football on the TV. ‘No, you relax. I’ll see you later.’
The noise and impatience levels were rising and Imogen went to open the front door. ‘Remember, no tricks, please!’ she called out as the kids yelled what sounded like a war cry as they surged out onto the street.
