‘She’s going to put it in a letter. I think it would mean more,’ said Dylan, looking at Rosie, who was subdued.
‘Fine,’ said Imogen.
‘You want to go and write it now?’ Dylan prompted, and Rosie left the room. Dylan moved over to his wife, exhaled deeply. ‘I’ve had to have a long talk with her. She seems to think it was all a joke gone wrong.’
‘It was,’ said Imogen.
‘Jesus, Imogen, that girl could’ve died.’
Imogen pulled a face.
‘Don’t try playing this down. Making out it’s no big deal,’ said Dylan sharply.
Imogen took a calming breath. ‘I’m not, Dylan. Itisa big deal. And I, too, have spoken to Rosie, explained how she must never, ever withhold anyone’s medicine. But what happened, none of that was part of Rosie’s plan. She didn’twantto harm Lara. She’s mortified about it.’
‘Is she?’
‘Yes!’ said Imogen, dismayed. ‘You don’t honestly think our daughter set out to...God, I don’t even want to say it.’
Dylan was looking at her, somewhat mollified. He didn’t believe it either, not deep down, she could see. Rosie wasn’t capable of that sort of dark malevolence. No, never.
‘She needs to know how serious it was,’ he said quietly.
‘She does,’ said Imogen. ‘As is Nancy’s threat to me yesterday. Erin thinks she’s the Canine Killer.’
Dylan scoffed. ‘The Canine Killer is something dreamed up by Erin’s paper. A load of sensationalist crap.’
Imogen didn’t answer. On her run home, she’d thought long and hard about what to do about Nancy. She finished her water and left the room. She had a phone call to make.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Monday 18 January
‘Everyone will find a ballot paper on their table,’ said Miss Young. ‘There are three candidates on there: Aisha, Rosie and Lara. You will secretly mark which candidate you want to be Spring Queen with an “X” in the box next to their name and then come and post your paper in here.’ She indicated a large box with a slot cut out of the centre at the front of the classroom.
There was much rustling and arms wrapped around ballot papers so no one could see. Rebecca watched her class carefully. It was Lara’s first day back after her spell in hospital and she was more subdued than usual. Rebecca had taken Lara and Rosie to Mr Whitman’s office first thing, and Rosie had conjured up a contrite face and soberly delivered her apology. She read from a letter saying she was sorry for ‘taking the asthma pump’ and it was a ‘very stupid thing to do’ and she ‘regretted it and the harm it had caused Lara’.
Rebecca thought it sounded like something a parent had scripted – Mrs Wood, most likely – and that Rosie hadrehearsed, although she couldn’t prove any of that, of course. Lara had listened, stiff with tension and her eyes downcast, then Rebecca had escorted them both back to class.
She got the kids to come up in small groups to post their vote even as she already knew what the result would be. She’d seen Rosie and Tilly canvassing in the playground that morning, knew without a doubt that they would have been persuading the kids to put an ‘X’ next to Rosie’s name. It would work too, of that Rebecca was certain. The other two girls didn’t stand a chance. Aisha was a nice kid but didn’t have the dazzle that Rosie possessed. And Lara...well, it had been sweet of Mia to put her friend forward, but she wasn’t going to get the votes. Not with Rosie’s campaigning. The whole thing was a stitch-up.
It was funny, thought Rebecca, as she tipped the box of votes onto her desk, you weren’t supposed to have favourites among the children in your class but every teacher knew that was a crock of shit. It was impossible not to, especially when some could be so vile. And Rebecca always thought it was grossly unfair how so many of the vile ones landed on their feet. It was kids like Lara who deserved a chance at being the Spring Queen. She consoled herself with the notion that, really, the whole Spring Queen thing was massively outdated and it offended her feminist sensibilities.
She told the children to read their English books then started to put the ballot papers into three piles. The first vote was for Rosie – of course it was – as was the next. Then, to Rebecca’s surprise, there were a couple for Lara. One for Aisha. One ballot spoiled, the owner having scribbled on it,declaring it should be a Spring King. Then another three each for Lara and Rosie.
Once she’d counted them all up, she called the class to attention.
‘We have the result,’ she announced, pausing for dramatic tension. ‘In third place is Aisha with five votes.’ There was a smattering of applause and Aisha tried not to look downcast. ‘In second place...’ Miss Young looked around the class. The children were all holding their breath. ‘...with eleven votes...is Rosie.’
Gasps from the kids. Miss Young glanced at Rosie, but her expression was surprisingly calm resignation at her position.
‘Which means in first place, and this year’s Spring Queen with thirteen votes is Lara. Well done, Lara!’
More clapping. Lara’s face was a picture of shock. For a moment it looked as if she didn’t fully understand what her teacher had said, then as it dawned, she took the tiniest little intake of excited breath before closing down again, obviously fearing retaliation from Rosie. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to be queen.’
But then, amazingly, Rosie turned to look at Lara. She shrugged. ‘It’s OK. It’s only fair that it’s you after what I did.’
Rebecca, stunned by this admission, watched carefully but Rosie appeared to be utterly genuine.
