Mummy’s Little Soldier: A troubled child. An absent mum. A shocking secret.. Casey Watson

and post-war generations often did.

      Riley shook her head. ‘Mum, he’s, what, forty? And minus a wife. You mean it never crossed your mind?’

      ‘It really didn’t,’ I admitted. ‘I just had him down as one of those “married to the job” kind of guys. But yes, he has a partner now, so love is very definitely in the air.’

      She pulled a face as she drained the pasta. ‘Let’s hope the kids don’t get a whiff of it then. Poor man if they do. They can be brutal if they think they’ve stumbled onto a secret like that.’

      And that was the paradox. That we lived in the modern world; in a world that was tolerant and accepting and, particularly among the younger generation, was as inclusive and non-judgemental as it had ever been before. Yet it was the youngest in society that posed the greatest threat – no doubt about it; a school was a difficult place in which to be gay, and we had a very long way to go to change that.

      I smiled, remembering the debacle that had preceded his ‘confession’ and which I’d also recounted – for the benefit of the daughter who’d played such a part in its happening in the first place. ‘Well,’ I mused, happy for the harmony between us, ‘I don’t doubt he’ll take it in his stride if it does happen, but let’s just hope the whiff isn’t as strong as his new aftershave!’

      My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, though one not followed by an immediate influx of kids, as per a new temporary protocol Kelly and I had decided upon. Having people knock and wait before entering wasn’t generally the way we did things – more often than not, when we were mid-class, no one heard the door anyway – but we’d decided that we’d get the children to do so on the first morning and, perhaps first thing at least, for the next couple of weeks.

      Having to wait to be admitted would form an important psychological barrier; one we’d decided upon creating mainly for the benefit of Ria Walker, who’d been told on Monday that she’d be spending the first few weeks with us and who had since been apparently bragging to anyone who’d listen that she’d soon have the ‘shower of dummies in there’ knowing who was boss. It went without saying that I was looking forward to dispelling that idea, and making her wait outside in the corridor – the last in the queue to be admitted – was stage one.

      ‘Ah! My new recruits,’ I said as I opened the door to find my new trio of children lined up behind Kelly outside the door. There was Ria, and Darryl – who I’d already met on the Monday – and an unfamiliar girl, who was presumably Cody Allen, and who looked more like she was queuing to get into the fair. I smiled at them and stood back to let them file in. ‘Come on in, then. I have milk, juice and biscuits waiting.’

      ‘Ooh, biscuits!’ Cody squealed as she ran ahead of the others, trying to grab Darryl as she passed him. ‘Let’s go, Romeo!’ she said, trying to tug him along with her.

      He was having none of it. He visibly flinched and squeezed himself nearer to Kelly, once again starting to rock on the spot. But I knew Kelly had that in hand, so I turned my attention to the girls; Cody, who was making a beeline for the biscuits, and Ria, who sauntered in, took a disdainful look around and then went across to the other side of the classroom, pulled out a chair, shrugged off her bag and sat down.

      ‘You not joining us for breakfast, Ria?’ I called across to her as I started to pour out cups of juice for the other two. ‘We’ve got chocolate biscuits over here, if you’d like one.’

      Ria rolled her eyes. ‘No thanks, I’m good,’ she said. ‘I do get fed before I come to school, you know.’

      Since there was nothing much to be said to that, and I certainly didn’t want to encourage her, I concentrated on the two students who were up for a snack, already breakfasted or otherwise. Which, for Darryl, perhaps predictably, was something of a production, involving taking a tissue from his backpack, wiping the rim of his cup carefully before finally venturing to take a sip, followed by a nibble on the edge of his biscuit, which had to be placed on another tissue between bites.

      That done, and apparently eschewing the remainder of his biscuit, he then crossed his arms across his chest and grabbed his opposite elbows. ‘Six minutes,’ he muttered, to no one in particular. ‘Six minutes until Miss Vickers says settle down.’

      Kelly knelt beside him. ‘Darryl, remember I told you, honey? It won’t be me this morning. It’s Mrs Watson who will be speaking to you from today. Mrs Watson is your new teacher for a few weeks.’

      ‘How many weeks?’ Darryl asked. Though without looking up.

      ‘You’ll be okay, baby,’ Cody joined in, passing him another biscuit. ‘Here, try this one. I haven’t licked any of the chocolate off or nothing.’

      Cody’s gesture seemed to upset Darryl greatly. He began shaking so violently that I immediately intervened, gently but firmly moving Cody’s hand away. ‘That’s kind, love,’ I told her, ‘but you keep that biscuit, and drink up your juice because Darryl’s right. We have to start class in just a few minutes.’

      At which her face fell – she clearly wasn’t pleased that he’d rebuffed her, and, as I could have predicted, but didn’t – I was still focussed on Darryl – she responded by scrambling from her chair, getting down on all fours, throwing her head back and howling like the proverbial wolf.

      It was as bizarre as it was shocking, so the response from Ria was perhaps only to be expected.

      ‘Oh. My. God,’ she said, punctuating each word with an emphatic pause. ‘I swear I’m in some kind of asylum. I am, aren’t I?’ she added, looking from me to Kelly and back again, then whipping a phone from her bag, as Cody hollered on, oblivious, presumably to capture the scene for posterity.

      I quickly moved to block her view. ‘Put that away, please, Ria,’ I told her. ‘Phones are not allowed in class. You know that. And you certainly can’t take photos like that.’

      She grinned, putting the phone away. Clearly testing the water. ‘This might be fun after all,’ she said, her tone almost jaunty. ‘I can just sit back and watch the show, can’t I?’ Her grin widened further. ‘It definitely beats double Geography.’

      It was perhaps at that moment that the nature of the term ahead properly ‘bedded in’ in my brain. You know how women forget the pain of labour the minute it’s all over? Well, that’s sort of what it’s like working in a school much of the time. And why, to my mind, the school year is arranged as it is – so that the teachers can have regular breaks. Half a term, more or less, is around six weeks in length – just about the maximum length of time in which you can expect relative harmony. Any more than that and the teachers – not to mention the pupils – are frazzled and badly in need of some time off.

      And it’s a break that has magical powers. Because whatever traumas and dramas have developed over the term, every time you return it’s as if they’ve been spirited away, and you invariably see things with rose-tinted glasses.

      And just about then was when the glasses flew off, crossed the room and smashed on the floor. I would have my hands full with these three, and then some. And then some. The frustration mounting, I glared across at Ria. Which, of course, had always been her intention. I knew Mike Moore, the head, had a soft spot for her – as well he might. Up till recently, she’d been a genuinely model pupil, although she clearly was no longer. She might as well have ‘Hate Me’ tattooed across her forehead, such was her apparent need to make enemies, and I wondered what kind of teenage angst was responsible for her sudden character change.

      ‘Thank you, Ria,’ I said, ‘but we don’t need a commentary. As you’re the oldest here, I will be expecting a bit more from you. Now, if you don’t want to join us over here, can you please just sit quietly while I sort out the seating arrangements?’ That, I thought but didn’t add, and the maelstrom you can see perfectly well is still going on at my feet.

      Ria looked like she had something to say, but obviously thought better of it. Instead she huffed and puffed and shuffled in her chair before turning