The girl was beginning to sob softly. “My tummy hurts.”
Rosie nodded knowingly. She’d come across this countless times at the nursery. Kids who struggled to settle always seemed to be plagued by the same complaint. She suggested a trip to the toilet. Molly complied, sniffing all the way.
“I’ll stay outside in the corridor,” Rosie smiled encouragingly as she propelled the little girl towards a cubicle. “You give me a shout if you need to.”
It was a good ten minutes before Molly reappeared. She looked pale, and barely better than she had before she’d gone in. Rosie felt sorry for her. The poor kid was obviously taking things hard.
During the rest of the afternoon the situation hardly improved. At home time Rosie waited with Molly on the school steps. Mrs Guest was slightly late and looked flustered as she hurried towards the entrance.
“I’m so sorry. The traffic was shocking.” She ran an agitated hand through her bleached hair.
Rosie tried to put her at ease. “That’s okay. Molly and I were having a little chat anyway.” She looked down at the girl, wishing she would at least attempt to look pleased to see her mother. But there wasn’t even the merest flicker of a smile on Molly’s face. Rosie decided to go for a different tack. “She hasn’t felt very well today.”
Mrs Guest frowned. “Oh sweetie, what’s the matter?” She moved towards her daughter with obvious concern. Molly looked as though she might cry again.
“She was complaining of tummy ache earlier.”
Mrs Guest sighed guiltily. “Hope it’s not the takeaway we had last night. Honestly, I’ve only been in this job a couple of months and they’ve upped my hours already. I’m not getting chance to cook, clean or anything. We’re living on rubbish at the moment.”
Rosie shook her head. “No, I’m sure it’s not that.” She hesitated for a moment. “She’s been a bit upset with herself today, that’s all.” Seeing a fresh wave of guilt flood Mrs Guest’s face, she found herself wondering if divorce was worth all the hassle.
The following morning Molly arrived at school extra early. Her mother wanted to speak to Rosie. Mrs Guest seemed as flustered as ever, and the speed of her words suggested she really needed to be elsewhere. “I still don’t think she’s well, Miss Maconochie. I offered to let her stay home with Colin – he’s my partner. He hasn’t managed to find a regular job yet, so he’s at home a lot of the time. But anyway she didn’t want to, so I didn’t push her.” She bent towards Rosie and lowered her voice. “She hasn’t taken to him yet. She’s still missing her dad, bless her. She’s very quiet with Col. Not naughty, just quiet. It’s a difficult situation.” She looked stressed out and Rosie couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
“Don’t worry, Mrs Guest. I’ll keep a close eye on her. Thanks for filling me in. By the way, call me Rosie.”
Mrs Guest smiled gratefully. She started to walk away, but suddenly turned back. “Molly likes you a lot, Rosie. I can tell by the way she talks about you at home. Thank you for taking time to help her.”
For Rosie, it was things like that that made the job worthwhile.
____________
As the days went by, Rosie felt a growing bond between herself and Molly. It was a relationship based not so much on verbal communication as on intuitive understanding. As the days turned into weeks, Rosie became expert at reading Molly’s mood within minutes of her arrival at school. There were good days and there were bad days. On good days, Rosie was able to leave the child to work at a table with her classmates while she moved around to offer her help elsewhere. On bad days, she had all on to get Molly to do any work at all. During one particularly frustrating morning, Rosie found herself remembering the drawing competition. She hit upon an idea. If she could get Molly to draw a picture of how she was feeling, maybe it would open up an alternative way for them to communicate. On this particular occasion, all the child managed to produce was an angry scribble, but it broke the impasse. After that, Rosie resorted to the technique several times. On those days when words seemed to be getting her nowhere, she found that encouraging Molly to draw her feelings on paper was the key to breaking down the little girl’s resistance. Sometimes they drew together just for fun. As the days became warmer, they began to take paper and pencils out onto the school field and sketch away during dinner breaks. Rosie noticed a measure of natural talent in Molly’s work; an eye for detail and the beginnings of her own distinctive style. She was sure that, with encouragement, it could be nurtured and developed.
It wasn’t long before they began to be joined by other children, and soon Miss Maconochie’s ‘Art Group’ became an established feature of dinnertime breaks. Strangely, Molly didn’t seem to mind the intrusion. It was almost as if she enjoyed being able to participate in a group on her own terms. Observing her, Rosie felt a growing sense of satisfaction that her efforts with the child were at last starting to bear fruit.
At least one area of my life is paying off, Rosie tried to reassure herself. Over the last couple of weeks, she’d managed to compartmentalise her head a little. One part of her still ached for Jonathon. That was the part that she kept firmly in check; the part that caused her to rattle off meaningless small talk on their journeys to and from school. To his credit, Jonathon had quickly learned to respect her distance and hadn’t tried to force anything deeper from her.
Her favourite part at the moment, however, was the part she played at school. Rosie the professional. Competent, innovative, reliable. And now Molly’s friend. Seeing the child’s growing trust in her made her life seem suddenly worthwhile. She tried not to think about the looming summer holidays and the end of her contract. She would do her best while she had the opportunity. Make hay while the sun shone. Anyway, Molly’s confidence must be growing a little. Surely there would come a day soon when she’d be able to stand on her own two feet.
One afternoon towards the end of May, one of the receptionists came into class with a message for Helen. Helen passed it on to Rosie. “Molly’s mother’s just rung in. She has to stay over at work. Her partner Colin will be picking Molly up from school.”
Rosie frowned. “How will we know it’s him? I’ve no idea what he looks like.”
Helen waved dismissively. “Don’t worry. I met him once when Molly first started here. I’ll take her out onto the front at home time if you like.”
“Then I’ll come with you,” Rosie asserted, “so I’ll know him in future.”
Colin was nothing like Molly’s depiction of him. If Rosie had expected some swarthy, sinister character, she was to be disappointed. Colin was slim and mousy-haired, his pale grey eyes bearing no resemblance to the black dots Rosie had anticipated. As Helen made the cursory introductions, he gave Rosie a brief smile. It was a strange smile and, for a moment, Rosie couldn’t help feeling that they’d met before. She dismissed the notion and turned her attention to Molly. She was slightly disconcerted to realise that the girl had managed to slip up the steps behind them and was standing rigid in the entrance doorway. Rosie went towards her. “Come on, Molly. Colin’s here because your mum has to work today.”
The look in the child’s eyes hurt her terribly. It was obvious the poor kid couldn’t stand the usurper. Rosie felt like a traitor. Helen wasn’t so emotionally attached. She took Molly’s hand and led her gently but firmly back down the steps, handing her over to Colin with a sympathetic smile. Rosie saw the little girl stiffen slightly. But the thing that got to her most was the glance Molly shot her as Colin led her out of the playground. In that moment, Rosie felt like the biggest let-down in the world.
____________
“Ever thought of going into teaching?” Jonathon asked out of the blue as they were on their way home from school one day. It was a warm June afternoon and Rosie had been daydreaming as she stared out of the window.
She shrugged. “Teaching? No, not really. Why d’you ask?”
“I think you’d be very good at it. You’re certainly very committed. You give a hundred and ten per c
ent to those kids. I hardly seem to see you these days.”
She glanced at him, not sure if the last comment had been a dig. But his face was calm, without the slightest trace of sarcasm or complaint. His comment had been nothing more than an objective observation, and it stung her. How she wished he’d missed her. How she wished her absence had distressed him. She fell into silence. How she wished she had her own car.
Sports day was coming up. As the nice weather continued, a date was fixed for the last week in June. Helen Walker was determined to drum up some enthusiasm. “We’re going to have a couple of practices up on the field to make sure we’re really good on the day. Our mums and dads will be coming to watch so we want to do our best, don’t we?”
As the children chorused in affirmation, Rosie looked over at Molly. She hoped that last remark hadn’t upset her. She thought back to her own school sports days. There had never been a dad there to watch her. Her mother had even missed on a couple of occasions. Rosie had hated every minute of the things. But Molly didn’t appear to have noticed Helen’s words. She was staring out of the window, seemingly in a world of her own.
The first practice fell later that week. The children changed into PE kits and filed out onto the school field, buzzing with excitement at the prospect of missing proper lessons. Molly was quiet. She stuck close to Rosie as they followed on behind the rest of the class. Rosie bent down to talk to her. “You okay?”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t feel well. I don’t want to run.” Her voice sounded small and unhappy. Rosie nodded slowly. The stomach aches had started again, and in the last few days Molly had spoken little. Perhaps, Rosie imagined, it was the thought of having to perform in front of so many strangers. As the practice races commenced, she tried to encourage Molly. “Just do your best, that’s the main thing. It doesn’t matter if you don’t win.”
It was just as well. As Molly’s group stood at the starting line for their race, Rosie couldn’t help noticing how thin the child was. Poking out of her baggy blue shorts like two sticks, her legs looked hardly capable of supporting her body. When the whistle went, each child set off from their position with as much effort as they could muster. Molly did too; but in terms of ground coverage, her effort was pitifully unrewarded. Watching Molly race was like watching someone trying to run through treacle. Her skinny arms wheeled in the air as she tried to keep up with her classmates, but it was hopeless. By the time Molly made the finish line, the candidates for the next race were drumming their feet ready to start. Rosie grimaced. Whoever had invented sports day needed a good slap.
Later, as they walked back into school, Rosie noticed that the little girl was hobbling slightly. “Have you hurt your foot?”
Molly shook her head.
“You’re walking a bit funny, that’s all,” Rosie pressed. “I just wondered if you’d twisted your ankle or something.”
Molly sniffed. “Tummy ache,” she said pathetically before looking away.
Rosie squeezed her shoulder gently. Kids like Molly shouldn’t be put through this kind of ordeal.
That afternoon Mrs Guest arrived to pick the child up from school. She bubbled with excitement when she spotted Rosie. “I’ve just found out I can get sports day off.” Turning towards her daughter, she smiled broadly. “That means I’ll be able to come and watch you, sweetie.”
Rosie hoped she hadn’t been banking on a positive response. Molly hardly flinched at the news. She was kicking an invisible pebble around with the toe of her sandal. Her mother might as well have been invisible too.
The day before sports day the weather broke. The forecast for the following day was heavy rain.
“I think we’re going to have to cancel,” Bev Carradine conceded gloomily. “No point parents taking a day out of work just to sit in the school hall.”
Helen Walker managed to shrug off the disappointment pretty quickly. “Between you and me, Rosie, I hate sports day. Always scared stiff one of them might do themselves an injury.” She thought for a moment. “We’ll have a film afternoon instead.”
After dinner she put the proposition to the class, suggesting that one of them might bring in a favourite DVD for the class to watch. She handed out small scraps of paper. “Right. Put your name and the name of your favourite DVD on your piece of paper. We’ll put them all in a hat and Miss Maconochie can pick one out. If we think it’s suitable the winning child can bring their DVD into school tomorrow. How does that sound?”
The idea went down well. Later, the rain stopped for a brief spell. While the children were outside for afternoon break, Helen and Rosie quickly went through the submissions.
“You can’t be too careful, Rosie,” Helen commented knowingly. “You’d be amazed at what some parents will let their children watch.” After removing a couple of dubious entries from the pile, she hurriedly threw the scraps of paper into an old dressing up hat and handed the whole lot to Rosie. “Here. You can do the honours.”
Five minutes later, when the children had come back into class, Rosie plunged her hand theatrically into the hat. “And the winner is …”
A hush of excitement fell over the whole room.
“Jake Rawlinson with … Monsters, Inc.!”
The two women exchanged glances and Rosie saw the faintest twinkle in Helen’s eye.
“Right, Jake – do you hear that?” Helen fixed the boy with a hard stare. “Your class is counting on you. Don’t forget to bring it in or I’ll have to show my favourite Numeracy DVD instead. It’s over three hours long.”
Observing the look of dismay on Jake’s face, Rosie doubted he’d forget.
“Well, no sports day,” Jonathon commented ruefully on their way home. “Some of my Year 6 lot are gutted. It would have been their last one before they leave. I’ll have to find a way of making it up to them.”
Rosie shrugged absently. “Show them a film. We’re watching Monsters, Inc.”
“Monsters what?”
“Monsters, Inc. – it’s a kid’s film.”
Jonathon shook his head. “Never heard of it. What’s that about then?”
Rosie rolled her eyes. The film had been out ages. She’d seen it three times at least, but then, that had been one of the perks of working at the nursery. “Well, where to start?” She began to run the movie through in her head. “The story’s set in this place called Monstropolis. All the inhabitants are monsters, see. Monsters of every kind. Y’know, hairy, scaly, furry. One-eyed, twenty-eyed – big teeth, false teeth … you get the picture?” She could see that Jonathon was trying his best to imagine it. “Right. Now the whole of Monstropolis is dependent upon one thing for its energy source.” She paused for effect. “Scream power.”
Jonathon raised an eyebrow.
“And the only way they can obtain this power is by harnessing the screams of human children.” Rosie hoped it was making at least a little sense. “That’s where Monsters, Inc. comes in. Monsters Incorporated – that’s the main processing plant. At Monsters, Inc., they’ve figured out a way to get through into the human world. Somehow, they manage to get hold of closet doors from the rooms of kids in the human world and bring them into the Monsters, Inc. factory. Each child is then assigned his or her own monster … tailor-made to scare them most. Are you getting this so far?”
Jonathon nodded tentatively. “I think so.”
“Well, every night, said monster goes through door, magically appears in child’s room, scares kid half to death and comes back out again.” Rosie rattled off the process like a teacher explaining a mathematical equation. “Meanwhile, outside the door, another Monsters, Inc. worker – ’cause these guys work in pairs – he’s collecting the screams and seeing how many canisters of scream power they can produce each shift. There’s a bit of a contest going on at the factory. Which team can break this week’s scare record and all that sorta thing.” She shot him a half-smile. “To be honest, most of the monsters are kinda cute really. The whole scary thing is an act. They’re actually more terrifi
ed of human kids than the kids are of them.”
“Is that it?” Jonathon looked less than convinced.
“Well, no – lots of other things happen …” Looking at his expression, she wondered if there was any point in continuing. It wasn’t the easiest film plot to describe and she hardly felt she was doing it justice. “It’s actually very funny and quite clever. And there are some strong positive messages in it. I won’t spoil it for you in case you decide to watch it sometime.”
“Thanks.” Jonathon stifled a smile. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
As it turned out, Rosie didn’t get to watch the film the next day. During the morning sessions there was quite a bit of classroom disruption caused by two of the boys, Josh Bryce and Oliver Packer. As dinnertime approached, Helen Walker was running out of patience. She gave the boys an ultimatum. One more incident and they would both miss the film. The final straw came in the dining hall queue. A provocation, an exchange of sly kicks, and suddenly Josh’s tray upturned, spilling his dinner all over the dining hall floor. Helen was furious when she heard the news.
“I warned them, Rosie. They’ve been building up to this all day. And they’re two of our oldest boys too. They ought to be growing out of this.” She sighed resignedly. “I’m going to have to follow this through. I can’t afford to go soft on them – I taught Olly’s brother two years ago. Little monster …”
Rosie gave a wry smile. “Perhaps it’s not the best film for them to watch then. Don’t want Olly picking up any monstrous ideas, do we?”
It was decided that Rosie would supervise the two boys during their punishment. They sat at a table on a corridor near Bev Carradine’s office. Rosie handed them both worksheets then settled down to mark some spelling tests. It wasn’t long before she noticed Josh rubbing his eyes.
“I really wanted to watch that film,” he said miserably, not even trying to hide his tears.
“So did I, Josh,” Rosie replied gently. “I was looking forward to it. But you see what happens when we keep doing what we know is wrong. It doesn’t just hurt us, it hurts other people as well. I haven’t done anything wrong, have I? But I have to sit out here too.”
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