Chapter 5
FIVE
MOLLIE
Grey concrete with blue doors, my old school was not particularly pretty, but I loved it there. My classroom was full of bright displays and a dark-blue rug with squirrels and foxes on it where we’d sit at the end of the day and listen to our teacher – Miss Hewitt – as she read aloud. It was my favourite time of the day. Everyone was quiet and still and listening. Sometimes I would close my eyes and pretend that I was in the story somewhere far away.
Miss Hewitt was my favourite teacher ever. She had short dark hair and always wore trainers with trousers, sometimes with a matching jacket. Whenever I finished my work, she would notice and smile and give me something even harder. When I completed that, too, she’d widen her eyes and tell me I was ‘amazing’. She liked Doctor Who and drinking coffee from a mug that said ‘Don’t Speak to Me Until This is Half Empty’. She had a smile that was real. It didn’t come out every minute like some teachers, but when it did, you knew she really meant it.
Every day, when Mum was late, Miss Hewitt would wait with me at the door as I tipped my foot from the step onto the tarmac of the playground. ‘My mum isn’t late,’ I would tell her. ‘She has to collect my brother first.’
Her voice would be tired but kind. ‘I know, Mollie. It’s okay.’
I remember a particular day when I was really impatient for my mum to arrive. On my blue school jumper – on the top right next to the school badge – I had the white sticker I’d been waiting all year to get. Student of the Week. It felt like everyone had had it except me. I’d tried so hard for it. Putting up my hand for every question, staying last to tidy up the classroom after craft time, helping others when they didn’t understand the work. But it had never been my turn. All the boys had had it. Even Simon Carpenter and he was always naughty.
Maybe my excitement at showing my mum the award was why it felt we’d been waiting a really long time. Balancing with my toes over the edge of the step, I was worried that Miss Hewitt would be thinking the same thing. ‘She’ll be here soon. Sometimes she gets stuck in traffic. All the other cars get in her way.’
Miss Hewitt looked up from the papers she’d been reading and smiled at me with her kind eyes. ‘It’s okay, Mollie. I know your mum has to get your brother first. I know Ben, remember?’
Ben used to go to my school, too. When we were younger. He’d had to go to another school because it was too difficult for him here. Not just the work. The playground, too. He used to walk around the edge of the tarmac on his own and I would get this weird tearing feeling in my stomach because I wanted to stay and play with my friends but I didn’t like him to be on his own.
The playground was empty now. The last of the children had gone home with their mums or dads. Sometimes my dad would collect me from school if his shifts worked out. That would be good because I got to leave with everyone else. I liked the hustle and bustle and calling goodbye to my friends, my hand safely in my dad’s and his undivided attention as I explained what we’d learned about the difference between fish and mammals and how Miss Hewitt had made us laugh by asking us which one a mermaid would be.
Today, though, I was glad it was my mum. She knew how important it was to be Student of the Week because she was a teacher at the big school a little way away from here. She was the one who told me the secret that sometimes the best children don’t get the award first because the other children need it more. I told her that I understood, but really that’s not fair, is it?
Miss Hewitt must’ve seen the way my fingers kept going to the top of the sticker where it had peeled away from my jumper a little bit. It felt nice to play with the top of it. ‘Be careful, you’ll make it fall off.’
I knew this was one of her jokes, but I stopped playing with it just in case. I wanted it to look perfect when Mum and Ben got here. To protect it, I wrapped my coat over the top, before pulling up my socks and making sure that they matched either side.
‘Here she is.’ Miss Hewitt sounded almost as pleased as I felt to see my mum hurrying through the dark-grey gates onto the playground.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Ben had a…it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry.’
With her hand still clamped on to Ben’s arm – sometimes he didn’t like holding hands – she reached for me and pulled me in for a hug but spoke over the top of my head. ‘I really appreciate you waiting for me.’
Miss Hewitt smiled. ‘I know what it’s like. See you Monday, Mollie.’
Miss Hewitt winked at me and a fizz of excitement rose in my belly at the thought of the news I had for Mum. With the sticker safely hidden under my coat, I decided it would be better to wait to tell her until we got home, where I could get her full attention.
‘Sorry I was late, sweetheart. Your brother has had a tricky day.’
She didn’t go into detail, but I could tell by the way he was wriggling against her, fighting her when she tried to get him into the car, pushing her away, that he was upset about whatever had happened. Once she’d shut the door on him, she closed her eyes for a moment as if she just wanted to go to sleep.
It was horrible when this happened in public. It wasn’t Ben’s fault, I knew that. Mum said that he just got overwhelmed sometimes. Noise or crowds or smells or heat or anything that felt too much to him would make him upset. At home, we could help him. But when we were outside, people would look at us, stare at Ben, frown at Mum like she was doing something bad and it made me want to scream at them to stop.
When we got home, things didn’t get any better. Ben had worked himself up into a real meltdown. He was shouting and slapping his hands on the floor, on himself. Mum was trying to soothe him but he wasn’t paying any attention. It wasn’t working. Why didn’t she just leave him to it? ‘Mum, I want to show you something.’
She didn’t even look at me. ‘Not now, love. Let me sort Ben out and then I’ll come and look.’
My throat felt tight. I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t. This was supposed to be my moment. She was supposed to be looking at me. I took my coat off and stood in the sitting room, waiting for her to notice my sticker, to ask me what it was for. But she didn’t even seem to notice I was there. ‘It’s okay, Ben. You’re home now. It’s all okay.’
I couldn’t wait any longer. ‘Mum, look at?—’
‘Go and take your uniform off and get yourself some juice, Mollie. I can’t come right now.’
The sharp tone to her voice was enough to prick the tears from my eyes. I ran to the bedroom, peeled the sticker from my jumper, screwed it up in my hand and threw it in the bin.