Connor stepped aside slightly. “Mum, this is Ms. Renshaw. She is the social worker dealing with what happened to Coral.”
There was a shocked pause while Kayla digested that.
“Of course,” his mother said smoothly, recovering. “Do come in.”
She turned, already walking ahead of them. “I wasn’t expecting… an interview, but I suppose we can sit in the drawing room.”
Connor glanced at Ms. Renshaw before following.
“And Connor,” his mother added lightly over her shoulder, “you might as well stay. It concerns you too, doesn’t it?”
“I’d rather not…”, Connor said before a glance from Ms Renshaw had him taking a seat on the far corner of the room.
His mother settled in a chair, crossing her legs with practiced elegance, pearls catching the light.
“I do hope this won’t take long,” she said, folding her hands. “There’s been a dreadful misunderstanding.”
Ms. Renshaw gave a polite nod. “If you could start from the morning in question—”
Kayla started speaking, explaining how she had picked Coraline from her preschool and then realized she was hosting the bridge group yesterday.
Kayla explained with a soft laugh. “Honestly, it was unavoidable. I host bridge, you see—it would have been terribly rude to cancel. And Coral, she is …you know, not quite normal.”
Connor felt her glance slide toward him, as if expecting him to back her up. Ms. Renshaw’s eyebrows went up slightly but she let he continue.
“And Matilda…” she continued, sighing delicately, “well, she’s always been so reliable. Such a lovely girl, she insisted she could manage.”
Ms. Renshaw’s pen paused. “So, you picked her up from preschool and left her at Ms. Matilda Hugh’s place?”
“Yes,” Kayla said quickly. “But she’s practically family. One does have to trust someone.”
Connor shifted slightly, the weight of Ms. Renshaw’s brief glance not lost on him before Kayla continued to her version of events.
Kayla smiled after she had finished. “I do hope you understand. These things are never as simple as they’re made out to be.” Connor felt the weight of Ms. Renshaw's brief glance as Kayla began explaining yet again howterribly misunderstoodshe'd been, repeating how thebridge gathering had been unavoidable, how Matilda had always been "so reliable, poor girl."
Connor stared at the table while Ms. Renshaw asked, "So you left a four-year-old with a neighbour who has a history of substance misuse?"
Kayla's smile faltered. "I…I didn't realise she had started again."
The social worker made a note. "I have all the details I need. I may get in touch if I have any questions. Thank you."
Kayla's colour was high and her voice was thready with indignation. "Really, Connor, this is all being blown out of proportion."
He didn't answer.
Outside, his phone wouldn't stop vibrating. Matilda's name flashed across the screen.
He ignored it once, twice. The third time he answered, voice raw. "Not now, Matty."
Her tone flipped from frantic to silky in a breath. "You'd better help me," she said. "They've been in the house asking questions. If you don't back me up, I'm going to tell Fern everything. I have nothing left to lose."
Connor closed his eyes, the pavement tilting beneath him. "Matty, you can do whatever you want because I am going to tell her everything myself."
But she'd already hung up.
***
In the hospital, the doctor had just left after doing the dressing when Fern’s phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. She picked up on the second ring.
