‘And do you think that?’ I ask, trying to keep the incredulous look from my face, thinking about what just happened.
By the time we reached Hannah Gilbert’s classroom, the screams had subsided and instead we were greeted by a cacophony of excited children’s voices as a classroom full of students burst out into the hallway. Hannah spoke in low tones to Florence, who nodded and shepherded me into an empty classroom, leaving me sitting wondering what on earth was going on.
‘I’m not sure what to think, if I’m honest. Ellie’s been through so much, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was acting out.’ Her voice rises at the end, making it sound like a question rather than a statement. ‘I don’t want to believe that any of them could have done this, but it’s clear one of them did. Those spiders didn’t get into Ms Gilbert’s drawer by themselves. And the fact is that Ellie’s project was about spiders. Is it just unfortunate timing? Or something more sinister? Where would an eleven-year-old girl even get that many spiders? And how would she put them in there without anyone noticing?’ I’m not sure whether she’s asking me these questions, or herself. I don’t bother trying to answer them.
‘What you going to do about it?’
‘There’s not much I can do, without any evidence. I’m going to speak to the entire class, tell them that what happened today is unacceptable, and if I catch anything like it happening again, the consequences will be very severe. I suppose that’s all I can do. I don’t think I should get the police involved.’ She shakes her head. ‘No, let’s not make it a bigger deal than it needs to be.’ She looks at me and I can see fear in her eyes. Florence Maxwell is scared and I don’t know if it’s fear of getting it wrong, or of something much worse.
26
Imogen
Ellie’s teacher, Hannah Gilbert, is on her feet, pacing back and forth across the empty staff room, when Florence and I walk in. At the sound of the door, she flinches and swings around to face us, her shoulders sagging when she sees who it is.
‘Florence, thank God you’re here. I didn’t know what to do.’ Her hand shakes slightly as she rubs it across her face. ‘It was horrible, they were everywhere. And I had to hold it together in front of the kids. I don’t even know how I managed it, I was terrified. And I . . .’ She stifles a sob.
‘Please, Hannah, sit down. This is Imogen Reid. She’s here from Place2Be.’ Florence places a hand on the teacher’s arm and guides her gently to one of the sofas. ‘Can I get either of you a drink?’
‘Coffee, please,’ Hannah replies, as I say, ‘Water, please,’ and sit down on the sofa opposite. We wait in an uncomfortable silence until Florence walks over and places our drinks in front of us. I don’t suppose either of us expected our first meeting to be like this.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘There were spiders everywhere. In my desk. I put my hand in there, I touched them.’ She shudders. ‘Ellie Atkinson put them there.’
I start to speak, but Florence beats me to it. ‘How do you know it was Ellie?’
Hannah scowls, her pretty face becoming ugly in an instant.
‘The class had some homework, a project on pets. Ellie did hers on spiders.’ She spits out the word and shivers as though reliving the memory of the eight-legged creatures clambering over one another in her desk drawer.
‘Was there a problem with Ellie’s project?’
‘Household spiders are not pets,’ Ms Gilbert says firmly. She looks as though she is ready to argue the point if pushed, and I wonder why she’s being so defensive.
I sigh. This woman is an idiot, and I almost hope Ellie Atkinson did put the spiders in her desk. It would serve her right for being so bloody inconsiderate. I spent the time on my own in the classroom reading through Ellie’s file and I already know something this woman has failed to realise after weeks of being Ellie’s teacher.
‘Does Ellie have a pet she can talk about, Ms Gilbert?’
Ms Gilbert shrugs. ‘It’s Hannah. And how would I know? That was the point of the assignment, to get to know the kids’ home lives. They usually love it.’
I have to fight every urge I have not to get angry with this petulant woman. ‘But you know Ellie’s home situation? Presumably you know that she’s in foster care, and therefore any family pet is unlikely to be hers? And presumably you could have found out – since it’s in this file in front of me, handed to me by Mrs Maxwell less than an hour ago, that Ellie’s family pets, both her dog and her hamster, perished in the fire that killed her entire family? So it makes perfect sense, to anyone who bothered to look, of course, that Ellie might not want to choose a conventional family pet to base her homework on, and certainly wouldn’t have a plethora of pictures of her own dead animals.’
‘Well,’ stammers Hannah Gilbert, flustered by the anger I haven’t quite managed to hide. ‘That doesn’t excuse what she did! And how did she know I have a fear of spiders? That girl,’ she grits her teeth, ‘that girl knows things. She knows things she shouldn’t know.’
‘Oh come on,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Let’s say for a moment that it was Ellie who put the spiders in your drawer – and you don’t seem have any clear evidence to prove it – that doesn’t prove that she knew anything about your phobia. The majority of people are scared of or dislike spiders. It’s hardly the highest evidence of psychic ability, is it?’
Hannah looks ready to argue again, but Florence interjects.
‘Ladies, I don’t think this is getting us anywhere.’
‘No, you’re right,’ I agree. I don’t want to get into an argument with the teacher on my first day on this case, but sometimes I can’t help myself. Dan calls it passion. ‘I apologise, Ms Gilbert.’
Hannah Gilbert nods in acceptance. ‘Yes, me too. I’ve had a bit of a shock. Of course I wasn’t implying . . .’ She trails off, unable to enunciate what it was she wasn’t implying. She looks embarrassed now, as though she’s let her mouth run away with her and is regretting it already. Despite her anger, I’m glad she’s spoken candidly; it’s given me an insight into what Ellie is facing in this school. Does Florence Maxwell know about the run-in Ellie had with Naomi and her mother in the town? Does Hannah Gilbert? I know I should mention it – if the police come to the school, my name will be on the report, which they’ll discuss with at least the headmistress – but given what’s just happened, I don’t feel like Ellie will come out of it looking good.
‘So where do we go from here?’ Florence asks, relieved that the disagreement isn’t going to escalate. ‘With regard to Ellie and her care?’
‘I’d obviously like to speak to Ellie as planned,’ I say. ‘But perhaps today isn’t the best idea. If she associates me with what’s happened today, she might feel like I’m here as some kind of punishment. I’d prefer our first meeting to be under less emotionally testing circumstances, if that doesn’t put you to too much trouble?’
Florence shakes her head. ‘Of course not, you’re probably right. I should call her foster parents, get one of them to collect her, and we’ll start again tomorrow.’ She looks at me as though for clarification, and I get the sinking feeling once again that the headmistress has no idea how to deal with circumstances like those she’s found herself in today. Indeed, if my own time at this very school is anything to go by, then she probably doesn’t. Gaunt is a small place, with very few problem children – the bullying I experienced was ignored or swept under the carpet, which is indicative of how the place deals with its problems by and large. I stopped noticing, after a while, how people treated me and my mother when we were in the local shops or down the high street, looking straight through us as though we weren’t even there, in the way you ignore a child having a temper tantrum, or a fart in a lift.
‘Can I ask something?’ Hannah says.
‘Of course,’ replies Florence, regarding the teacher sympathetically. What kind of relationship do they have? Are they close?
‘Well it’s like Imogen says, if we send Ellie home now, then won’t it seem as
though she’s been singled out? We have no real proof that it was her – although I still believe it was,’ she adds quickly. ‘But if we want to make sure she doesn’t feel unfairly persecuted, then she shouldn’t be treated any differently to the others.’
‘Yes, okay, I see your point.’ Florence nods quickly. ‘I had thought she might feel uncomfortable staying in school, but you’re right, Hannah, let’s just see how the rest of the afternoon goes, shall we? Now, I’d better go and talk to her, let her go for some lunch and then back to classes.’
Hannah stands quickly as Florence rises.
‘Can I go?’ she asks. Her face reddens. ‘It’s just that I was a bit sharp with her before . . . the shock . . . I, I’d like to apologise.’
Florence positively beams. I try not to narrow my eyes and let my suspicion show on my face. Hannah Gilbert was so furious when we walked in, so certain that it was Ellie who was responsible for scaring the wits out of her and making her look foolish in front of her class. Furious enough to practically accuse the girl of bloody witchcraft, for goodness’ sake. Now she’s going to slink off with her tail between her legs and apologise to the person she still believes responsible?
‘That’s a fabulous idea, Hannah. I’m sure it will make Ellie feel better to know that there will be no bad feeling between the two of you.’
You’re paranoid, Reid. Hannah Gilbert is no more Lady Macbeth than Ellie Atkinson is Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I try for a warm smile to cover my suspicion. Hannah nods in my direction.
‘It was nice to meet you, Imogen,’ she says. ‘I’m just sorry it was under these circumstances. I look forward to working with you.’
‘And you,’ I lie.
As the door swings closed behind her, Florence Maxwell turns to me.
‘I’m sorry about that. Hannah isn’t a bad person – she’s a good person and a good teacher – but when it comes to Ellie Atkinson, she seems to be a tad blinkered. I’m not sure what else has gone on between them – Hannah has always maintained that Ellie just has a bad attitude. You seem to have got through to her, though. I’m glad.’
I highly doubt that’s true, but I don’t want to appear disingenuous. Anyway, I’ll have a much easier time keeping an eye on Hannah Gilbert as her friend than her enemy.
‘Yes, well we can all overreact a little when we’ve had a shock. It was nice of her to offer to go and speak to Ellie.’ I stand. ‘I really have to go back to the office – it’s my first week and I have an awful lot to get through.’
Florence nods. ‘Of course.’ She offers me her hand. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Imogen. Thank you for coming. Shall I email you to arrange your meeting with Ellie?’
‘That would be good, thanks.’ I search the other woman’s face for any sign that she has recognised the scrawny, grubby girl who once avoided her PE lessons, but it is obvious that Imogen Tandy has been long forgotten by the school – perhaps by the whole town. A stab of sadness takes me by surprise. Am I really upset that a town I hated could have forgotten me? Or is it just sadness that fifteen years of a girl’s life could mean so little?
‘Oh, just one more thing?’ Florence Maxwell speaks as I am halfway through the door. I turn back.
‘Did Emily say anything about Ellie before she left? In her handover?’ There is a forced casualness in her voice.
‘We didn’t have a handover,’ I reply. ‘She was already gone when I arrived. Apparently she was in a bit of a rush to dash off and get married. I have her notes, but to be honest, I didn’t get the feeling she’d managed to get very far with Ellie.’
Is that relief that briefly crosses the head’s face, or have I imagined it? Either way it’s gone by the time she speaks. ‘Right, yes, well hopefully you’ll get a little further.’
‘I’m almost certain I will,’ I reply. Only I’m not certain of anything at the moment, and haven’t been since the minute we drove into this town.
27
Ellie
The door to the classroom swings open and she looks up, feels her stomach clench when she sees the face of her teacher, Ms Gilbert, approaching. She shoots to her feet, her words tripping out all over the place before she can catch them.
‘It wasn’t me, okay? I’m telling you . . .’
‘Listen, Ellie.’ Ms Gilbert advances towards her and perches on the edge of one of the tables. ‘I know that you are responsible for what happened today.’ Her voice is low and calm, almost as if she’s informing Ellie of a change in her timetable or the menu choices for lunch. ‘I can’t prove it, and therefore no further action is going to be taken. But know this. If you pull a stunt like that again, I will have you thrown out of this school and I will make sure those foster parents of yours send you back to social services.’
Ellie just out her chin. ‘I’m telling you now I didn’t do it. This wasn’t my—’
‘Wasn’t your fault? It seems like a lot of things happen to you that aren’t your fault.’ Ms Gilbert lets her last sentence hang in the air and Ellie knows exactly what she means. The fire. ‘Only I’m not as blind or as naïve as some of the teachers in this school. Our headmistress might refuse to believe that the string of bad luck that follows you around is anything more than that, bad luck, but I know the truth. Bad things happen to bad people, Ellie, and I want you to know that you don’t fool me. I don’t know how you pulled that stunt with the spiders, but I do know that I am going to watch you every single day of your time here. And I’m going to make sure that’s as short as possible.’
Ellie fixes her dark eyes on Ms Gilbert and throws every ounce of hatred she is feeling at that moment into her words. ‘That’s fine,’ she says. ‘You watch. But just be careful, Ms Gilbert, because I have a feeling I’m going to be around here much longer than you are.’
28
Imogen
‘How did it go today?’
‘God, Dan, it’s just horrific how they’re treating that girl!’ I shudder at the thought of what I saw that day. It’s 7 p.m., I’ve only just walked in and everything aches. I’ve heard the early stages of pregnancy can be exhausting, but this is ridiculous. Does growing a baby really have to make you burst into tears because the toilet is out of soap? Dan hands me a mug of green tea, and as I look at it, my stomach turns. I’d kill for a glass of wine right now.
‘The teacher, Hannah Gilbert, is bloody mental,’ I tell him, putting the tea on the counter. ‘It’s like she has a grudge against this girl, this eleven-year-old girl. I’ve never seen anything like it.’ My face crumples and I fight tears of exhaustion.
‘Hey, calm down. Come here.’ He folds me into his arms and I bury my head in the warmth of his chest. Without warning, I’m sobbing into his jumper. After a few minutes I pull back and wipe my face on my sleeve.
‘And the notes, they’re all a mess, just a jumble of papers. This Emily woman was a bloody maverick and a lazy cow. She clearly got by doing the least amount of work humanly possible, then ran off to get married leaving the shit-tip to someone else. Which they are all really weird about, by the way. Who leaves a job to get married? I think she was fired and everyone is too afraid to talk about it. Which is a joke, because they talk about everything else. Constantly. I never realised how hard it would be to work in an open-plan office.’ I sigh. ‘Have I made a massive mistake?’
Dan shakes his head. ‘Of course you haven’t. You just have to rebuild your faith in yourself after everything. Do you think you can help this kid, this Ellie?’
‘I didn’t even get the chance to meet her,’ I admit. ‘But yeah, I’m going to do my best, of course I will.’
‘Then it’s not a mistake, is it? Even if this job means you help one kid who wouldn’t have got the help before, then it can’t be a mistake.’
I think back to my own time at school, how different my life might have been if there had been just one person there to give me the kind of help I can offer Ellie. ‘You’re right. You’re always right.’ I smile and reach up to kiss him. ‘Thank you.’
/> ‘That’s what I’m here for. Drink your tea and I’ll give you a foot rub. This place was supposed to relax you, not be more stressful than your old job.’
My shoulders sag. ‘I know,’ I sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sure it will be fine once I’m up and running. The position has been vacant a while and no one’s done anything from what I can gather.’ I hold up my hand as Dan tries to hand me my mug of piss-smelling nettle water. ‘Oh please, Dan, I don’t want a bloody green tea, for God’s sake. I can go back to being a good little baby machine tomorrow.’
Dan looks crestfallen. I immediately regret my harsh tone, but I can’t find the words to apologise. I could tell him the real reason I’m so crabby, all the hormones that are causing this foul temper, and he’d be so delighted that he’d forgive my snappiness in a heartbeat, but I just can’t bring myself to say it.
Damn it, Imogen, I berate myself as he nods and walks from the room. My head thumps. How is it you can spend so long trying to fix others and you still can’t bring yourself to give him what he wants?
29
Ellie
Ellie sits on a bench in the far corner of the playing field and pulls out a notebook. Lunchtimes are excruciating. Worse perhaps than classes, when she can at least convince herself she is in her old school with her old friends, passing notes with the names of boys they fancy covered in hearts and doodles.
She looks out over the field now, watching the boys playing football and the groups of girls giggling and watching the boys. Why doesn’t she have any friends? Why can’t this be easy for her, like it was before? Before the fire, before . . . everything. Maybe what they’re saying, what they whisper when they think she can’t hear, is true. Maybe she is evil. Can you make something happen just by wanting it? And if that’s true, did she want her parents to die? She was mad at them, it was true, but she never imagined a life without them.
The Foster Child Page 9