‘And then Lara started wheezing and me and Tilly, we went up to her and we asked her if she was OK,’ said Rosie.
‘And what did she say?’ asked Mr Whitman.
Rebecca watched as Rosie looked down at her lap, her hands placed carefully in front of her, her head hung meekly, a loose blonde strand dangling down. Her mother was next to her, sitting right back in the chair, her elegant legs crossed. She oozed confidence and something else – gracious tolerance, Rebecca thought. As if she had generously taken time out of her very busy day to attend this meeting. Rebecca was still staggered that, despite the fact Mr Whitman had explained at the start of the meeting that they were here to discuss the circumstances leading to Lara’s hospital admission, not once had Mrs Wood asked if the child was all right.
Right now it was very clear that Mrs Wood didn’t think her daughter had done anything wrong at all.
Mr Whitman was sitting on a chair opposite her: teachers on one side, pupil and parent on the other. ‘Rosie?’ heprompted. ‘What did Lara say when you asked her if she was OK?’
‘She said she was fine,’ said Rosie.
What?thought Rebecca angrily. Did Rosie really think they were going to believe this total nonsense?
‘And then what happened?’ asked Mr Whitman.
‘We saw her get her inhaler out of her pocket and she took some puffs, so we ran on.’ Rosie shrugged. ‘She said she was fine,’ she repeated.
‘Is there anything else you want to tell us?’ asked Mr Whitman.
Rebecca saw a frown appear on Mrs Wood’s smooth forehead. ‘She’s just told you what happened,’ she said.
‘If you could let me ask the questions,’ said Mr Whitman and Rebecca noticed Mrs Wood’s eyes harden. She did not like being put in her place.
‘There’s nothing,’ said Rosie.
‘Do you know how Lara’s inhaler ended up on the ground?’ Rebecca asked.
She saw a flash of alarm in Rosie’s eyes. So she did dump it there, thought Rebecca, right after she’d taken it from Lara.
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘Maybe Lara dropped it or something.’
‘Lara or you?’ said Rebecca. She was getting thoroughly fed up with this charade, of letting this child spout all sorts of rubbish with no one challenging her. Rebecca thought she would remember the moment she’d first seen Lara, lying on the ground, for the rest of her life. She had looked so fragile, so small. So still.
Mrs Wood sat up, the relaxed, slightly bored stance finally broken.
‘Rosie has told you what happened,’ she repeated.
‘Except Lara’s version of events is very different,’ said Rebecca. ‘She said that Rosie took the inhaler out of her hands so she couldn’t use it – during anattack,’ she added for emphasis, ‘and then Rosie wouldn’t give it back, even though Lara pleaded for it.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Mrs Wood.
‘It’s Rosie who should be responding, not you,’ said Rebecca.
Mrs Wood looked shocked and Mr Whitman placed a warning hand on the table, an indication Rebecca should rein it in.
‘Is it true?’ he asked Rosie. ‘Did you take the inhaler out of Lara’s hands?’
Her bottom lip wobbled a little, and her eyes filled with fear and uncertainty.
Finally, thought Rebecca, we’re getting somewhere.
‘Should we ask Tilly?’ said Rebecca. She made to get out of her chair. ‘Maybe I should go and get her from class right now...’
‘This is outrageous,’ said Mrs Wood.
Rosie glanced at her mother and kept quiet, much to Rebecca’s irritation.
‘Or we could look at the CCTV that’s directed towards the field,’ added Rebecca. ‘That would save us all a lot of time and then we would know for sure which one of you is telling the truth.’
