‘No,’ Eva replies.
‘Don’t you think it would have been better to tell your teacher, rather than hit someone?’ Miss Chalmers asks.
Eva shrugs. But it’s not a defiant shrug, it’s more like an I’m-exhausted-can-this-stop-now shrug.
‘At least we know that it wasn’t unprovoked,’ I say. ‘Eva was being picked on.’
‘I agree, it can’t have been very nice,’ Miss Chalmers says with a sympathetic expression. ‘But it’s still no excuse for such a violent outburst.’
‘But surely—’ I begin.
‘I suggest you take Eva home, and take some time to reflect on what’s happened. With any luck, Lauren’s nose will be fine and everything can go back to normal on Monday.’
‘Will you be having a word with Lauren about her behaviour?’ I ask.
‘I think Lauren’s had enough of a lesson today, don’t you?’ Miss Chalmers says, glancing from me to Eva.
With a tense jaw and a hardening in my stomach, I get to my feet and give Miss Chalmers a curt nod. I don’t want to have an argument with her in front of Eva, but I’m not happy that Lauren isn’t going to be reprimanded about the way she treated Eva and got the other girls to gang up on her. ‘So, she’ll be back on Monday then?’ I ask, double-checking that my daughter’s punishment still stands.
‘I think that’s best. The school will send you a letter laying out the reasons and the terms of the temporary exclusion.’
I wish I could storm out, but I know that won’t help my daughter’s cause. So instead, I grit my teeth and shake Miss Chalmers hand before leaving the office with Eva. My mind whirling with everything that’s happened, my daughter’s small hand in mine. Outside, I see that the sky has darkened and fat, cold drops of rain have begun to fall, plopping onto the tarmac with lazy deliberation. And it’s now I remember that I don’t have my car with me. It’s still parked in town with a bloody awful insult sprayed across its side. Those two words, which right at this moment feel like they’re absolutely true. An uncomfortable thought starts to take shape… could it have been Rebecca who vandalised my car? No. Surely not. That’s not her style.Is it?
Seven
I sit up and press the heels of my hands into tired, scratchy eyes, the events of last night driving into my brain like an express train pulling into a station. I’m not stupid, I knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, but it was still a shock to hear the absolute fury and violence in his voice. To realise that I was the cause of it.
Glancing around the room as grey morning light filters in through cheap polyester curtains, I arrive at the conclusion that this place is an absolute dump. If the room were nicer, I’d like nothing more than to close my eyes and sink back into oblivion for a few more hours. But it’s not, so I throw off the musty blankets and get to my feet. I need to get a new job as soon as possible so I can get out of this shithole. If I hadn’t screwed up so badly, I’d be getting paid right about now. Instead, I can kiss that pay cheque goodbye.
I remember climbing into the lumpy hotel bed in the early hours of the morning, my heartbeats crashing around my ribcage like metal balls in a pinball machine. I still feel antsy even now, despite the fact I dumped my phone and drove over 100 miles to get away. Surely there’s no way he can find me again. Not now.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I try to summon up a smidgeon of enthusiasm for the day ahead… Nope. Nothing. But I’d better find some reserves from somewhere because I need a new plan and I need it fast.
Once again, I shudder to think what might have happened if he had got hold of me – he definitely sounded mad enough to kill.
I locate a socket under a table, next to a wastepaper basket. I plug in my laptop and wait for it to fire up. While I’m waiting, I make myself a cup of coffee using the kettle and sachets provided on the white melamine tray. I hate instant coffee, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. Eventually, my home screen populates with all its colourful little icons. I hold my breath while I open my emails, hoping to see the message that will save me.
Eight
Eva and I finally stagger into the driveway, soaked through to the skin, our breaths coming in gasps and our teeth chattering. It was too short a walk from school to call a cab, but maybe I should have done it anyway, because it feels like we’ve both just battled our way through a hurricane.
I insert the key into the lock, dreaming about warm clothes and a hot cup of tea. But strangely the key doesn’t seem to want to go in. I jiggle it about, but it only goes part way. I check it’s the right one. It is. It’s the only brass key on my fob, the rest are silver. Perhaps the rain has made the lock swell up? But that doesn’t sound right. The wood might swell, but not the metal lock, surely?
‘Mum, can we go in?’ Eva asks, her voice partially whipped away by the wind.
‘I’d love to, but I can’t get the key to work.’ I try again, but it’s no good.
‘Mum, I’m cold.’
‘I know, I’m trying!’
‘Sorry.’ She looks down at her shoes.
‘No,I’msorry.’ I kiss the top of her soaking-wet head. ‘I didn’t mean to snap, sweetie.’ I take a deep breath and try the key once more.
‘Maybe Dad’s home?’ she asks hopefully.
‘He’s out working.’ I ring the doorbell a few times, just in case, but, as expected, no one answers. I feel like screaming. This morning has been a series of disasters from start to finish. It really seems like someone has it in for me.
