The barista was flicking buttons on the coffee machine and filling steaming cups. Now that Lara had been moved onto the children’s ward, the nurses had insisted Nancy take a quick break. Away from the immediate task of caring for Lara, Nancy found her mind wandering to what had happened to her daughter that morning.
She pictured Rosie on the field. Saw them all running. In her mind, she witnessed Rosie snatch away Lara’s inhaler. Only this time, Nancy placed herself on the running track, saw her holding Rosie by the arm, her fingers gripping tightly, oh so very, very tightly. She leaned right into Rosie’s face and the kid backed away, her expression a mixture of fear, cockiness and affront. Nancy gripped her arm tighter still. Rosie squealed. Nancy felt a frisson of satisfaction.
‘You think you’re clever?’ spat Nancy. ‘Funny? You enjoy upsetting other kids? Making them terrified that they can’t breathe? You’re a vicious, nasty little brat.’
Stop.
Nancy snapped out of her daydream. Her heart wasracing. She took some deep breaths. Her mind kept wandering back to the torture of what Lara must have endured, the complete and utter terror at not being able to breathe, and she felt devastated. And consumed with an anger that was primal in its intensity. It threatened to take over everything: her mind, her rational thought, her sanity.
Don’t keep playing it over and over in your mind, she told herself.It will send you mad. Lara doesn’t need you mad, she needs you to fight for her.She took her freshly made coffee from the countertop and headed back up to the ward.
SIXTY-THREE
Friday 8 January
It was January, for God’s sake, thought Lorna. Christmas was over and done with – forgotten pretty much and, as for the end of last term, well, that felt like light years away.
So why the hell were people messaging each other about the end-of-year gift for Miss Young?
It had started that morning. One of the mums – Stacey – had put a message in the group saying she’d bumped into Miss Young in John Lewis in Derby over the holidays where she was buying a new toaster and kettle with her voucher. On the WhatsApp group Stacey had congratulated all the other mums on their generosity: ‘Thirty of the best mums in Derbyshire!’ she’d typed, and loads of them had responded with hearts, smiley faces and kisses – except for Hannah.
It was always Hannah who had to rock the bloody boat. She either said the opposite to everyone else – just to wind them up, Lorna sometimes thought – or she had to point out what everyone was politely avoiding or she deliberately challenged someone’s views, when it was so obviously ajoke. Whatever it was, she always had to spoil the party.So Hannah, bloody Hannah, had only gone and written: ‘Pretty special toaster and kettle for £300!’
Then Sally had pointed out that no, the total had been £170 and copied and reposted Lorna’s message that she’d sent to everyone at the end of term saying how she’d bought a multi-store voucher for £170 and taken a photo of it.
And then Hannah had said: ‘Oh, I forgot about that message. But didn’t we all put in a tenner?’
At that point, Lorna had started to sweat and she’d sworn out loud. The poor dog had looked up in alarm. Lorna had had to stop her ironing. She couldn’t focus and she was very, very nervous about what was going to happen next.
The thread went quiet for a bit then a couple of them felt compelled to declare what they had donated.
5 January
RIPTON PRIMARY, YEAR 6
Erin Mackie, Tilly’s mum
Yes, I put in ten quid. 11:27
Helen, Lottie’s mum
I did too. 11:27
Nicole Wilson, Bella’s mum
Me too. 11:27
Cheryl, Aisha’s mum
And me. 11:27
Harriet, Milo’s mum
11:28
Anna, Seb’s mum
Me too! 11:28
