Page 74 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

Then Max dropped the petticoat and unrolled another sheet of paper.

I want you to be my new dad.

Harry looked away from the boy on the platform and down at his shoes. His eyes filled with tears. He wiped them hastily away and glanced back towards Max. He was waving the petticoat again now. As the train began to move forwards, Harry craned his neck to look behind, watching the flashes of red disappearing as the train continued its journey towards Halifax.

39

The last thing Taylor needed was another phone call from the school.

‘We need you to come in,’ said the headteacher in clipped tones. ‘Immediately.’

‘Is Max hurt?’

‘He has some injuries, yes.’

‘Injuries? What injuries?’

‘I think it’s best if you come into school. There’s a… situation we need to discuss.’

She articulated the words situation in exactly the same way that Mrs Green said incident, Taylor noticed. It must be more serious if she was being summoned in the middle of the day like this. This better not have anything to do with that red petticoat.

She grabbed her bag and brolly – it was raining slightly – and hurried towards the station.

Max was sitting outside the headteacher’s office with an ice pack on his head, a bloody nose and a miserable look on his face.

‘Sorry, Mum,’ he mumbled.

She rushed to him, kneeling beside him on the cold polished floor and resting her head on his knee. ‘Thank God you’re okay, Max,’ she said. She wanted to cry, but it wasn’t the time nor the place.

‘Where’s your school shirt?’ she said, realising suddenly that he was in his PE kit.

‘Covered in blood.’

‘Oh, Max.’

‘Would you like to come through, Ms Sweet?’

The headteacher was standing over them now. Taylor stood up, and Max got up off the chair.

‘Not you, Max,’ said the head coldly. ‘You wait here.’

Taylor followed her meekly in the office, feeling distinctly like she was eight years old herself and had done something naughty, but telling herself she was a parent whose child was being failed by this school and who needed to go in fighting for his rights.

She sat down without waiting to be asked, perching on the edge of the chair like a runner on the starting blocks, ready for action.

‘As you’re already aware, Max does seem to be having a lot of problems settling into Year 4,’ the head began.

As he had in Year 3. And Year 2. And Year 1 and Reception before that.

‘Today there has been a very serious incident. Max got himself into a fight with some of the boys in his class.’

‘His class? Not the Year 6s?’

‘His class. And I have to say that Max brought this on himself.’

Taylor found that difficult to believe, but she bit her lip and said nothing. She needed to know the facts first.

‘I assume you’re aware of our uniform policy?’