‘They had a sign about saving squirrels. But why, what’s going to happen to the squirrels?’
‘Thank you, Molly,’ I smiled indulgently. ‘Yes, that’s what they say, they do want to save squirrels…’
‘Are you killing squirrels?’ Her eyes were wide with horror. ‘I love squirrels. We have some in our garden. We leave nuts out for them.’
‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘No Molly. We are definitely not killing squirrels. I love them too. Everyone loves squirrels, don’t they? It’s about where squirrels live. Can anyone tell me where squirrels live?’
Hands shot up.
‘Charlotte?’
‘Houses?’ Some of our pupilshad other gifts rather than purely academic ones.
‘No, not quite… well, maybe to them they are houses, so perhaps, technically, you are right, Charlotte, but there’s another word I’m looking for. Trees. We all love trees don’t we.’
‘Are you killing trees as well?’
‘No Molly. There won’t be any tree killing.’ I really hoped this promise did not turn out to be an empty one.
For a moment I lookedup and made eye contact with Red. But he gave me nothing, no sense of quite how well or badly this was going, but there was a palpable atmosphere that this special assembly was special for all the wrong reasons as everyone stopped breathing for a moment and waited to hear how I would defend myself from accusations of squirrelicide and tree felling.
‘Well, we are thinking of selling a sectionof land. The Copse. The overgrown bit, the nettley area full of brambles.
‘The nature area?’ one girl called out.
‘Where we go and watch the butterflies,’ said another.
‘Yeah, we love the Copse,’ said another voice.
‘The adventure area!’
‘What’s that, Abigail?’ I said.
‘It’s the best place in the school,’ said Abigail, who was sitting at the side of the room. ‘We are allowed to play theresometimes and it’s magic. Like anything could happen.’
‘Like what? Do you mean tripping up or having some kind of accident?’ I’d had no idea that the children were even particularly aware of the Copse or that it had become imbued with magical properties but I was definitely aware that my little chat wasn’t going to plan.
‘No. Like you can have an adventure.’
All the girls began nodding andvoices began chattering, the sound in the room was filled with happy memories about being in the Copse.
Another hand up. ‘Poppy?’
‘Is it in trouble? Are we going to save it like the people outside?’
‘Not quite… well, yes it’s in trouble and no we are not going to save it… I mean…’
A sea of shocked tiny faces.
‘Whose side are we on?’ said Poppy.
‘It’s not about sides,’ I said. ‘But we’renot on the side of the protestors. You all want computers, don’t you? You all want to be like the children in Willow Grove, isn’t that right? With your own iPads. You would prefer that, wouldn’t you?’ My God, I thought, I’ve transitioned into Cruella De Vil. I used to think of myself as a kindly child-loving teacher. Now, I had become practically evil.
I looked around at all the faces of thechildren. Some were shaking their heads, and others began to cry. They held each other’s hands for moral and emotional support. Oh dear God. This was not meant to happen. Even Mary, standing at the side door, beside me, had panic on her face. What would happen next? Would social services arrive to drag me away? Red, at the back of the hall, looked completely bemused, as though he was witnessing thebreakdown of a previously well-respected figure, like seeing your favourite television presenter suddenly turn on you when you innocently asked for their autograph. And the children would go home and tell their parents that Ms Thomas wanted to kill trees and squirrels.
‘Children, children!’ I was screeching now, rising panic squeezing my vocal chords. ‘Are you saying to me you don’t want computers?But I thought you’d be delighted…’
Poppy managed to raise her hand, her eyes moist with tears. ‘We’d much prefer to have our own squirrel, Ms Thomas. And our own butterfly.’
