Bertie was one of the last children to leave school. He trudged towards me, his head bent, kicking up gravel as he shuffled his feet. As he got closer, I noticed a red streak travelling from his lip to his cheek.
‘Bertie,’ I said, tilting his chin so I could get a good look. ‘What’s happened to you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Tell me now, or I’ll have to speak to Mrs Bright.’
Bertie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Don’t, Mum, it’s nothing.’
‘It doesn’t look like nothing.’
‘They were just messing around.’
‘Who?’
‘Jack Jamison and his mates.’
‘What did they do to you?’
A tear trickled down Bertie’s cheek and he brushed it away with an angry swipe of his sleeve. ‘They were saying mean things about you and Dad. That we had no money, that Dad doesn’t love me. Then they started hitting me with branches.’
‘Branches? Where were you?’
‘They dragged me into the woodland area at lunchtime.’
‘And did you tell anyone what happened?’
‘I tried to tell Mrs Bright, but the others said we were just playing, and she told me to stop making a fuss.’
‘She what?’ I began marching up to the school, but Bertie chased me, yanking my arm to stop me.
‘Please, Mum, don’t. You’ll just make it worse.’
‘I won’t stand for you being bullied.’
‘But they’ll bully me more if they think I’m a snitch.’
‘Fine. But I want you to think about it tonight, and I want you to let me take a photo of your cut for evidence.’
After much protesting, Bertie relented and let me photograph his face.
‘Come on, let’s go and see Aunt Cass.’
‘Can we just go home?’
‘Are you sure? You love seeing Jake.’
‘I don’t want him to see this,’ said Bertie, pointing to the cut on his cheek. ‘I’m really tired, Mum. I just want to go home.’
‘All right, but wait in the car while I call Aunt Cass. I need to let her know we won’t be coming over.’
‘OK.’
Bertie climbed into the car, and I dialled my sister’s number.
‘Hi, Liv. Are you on your way over?’
‘No, sorry, I’m going to have to cancel. Bertie’s had a bad day at school and wants to go straight home.’
