Chapter 4
FOUR
JESS
‘Have you got a minute?’ Maisie’s teacher, Miss Jenson, asked Jess when she arrived to pick Maisie up.
‘Sure,’ said Jess, even though she probably didn’t really. ‘Is everything okay?’ This was slightly concerning. Not just because she wondered what Maisie had gotten into.
She followed the teacher into the classroom, and the smell of Play-Doh and crayons hit her nostrils.
‘There was a bit of an incident,’ said Maisie’s teacher, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
‘An incident?’ Jess frowned.
A child ran back into the classroom then, grabbing her blue cardigan with the school badge, that was hung over the back of her chair, before running back outside to her mum.
‘Yes. Another girl has the exact same pencil case as Maisie, and there was a mix-up,’ Miss Jenson continued. ‘Maisie insisted the other child had hers as her own had gone missing. Anyway, she found it in the end. She’d taken it to the toilet with her and left it there.’
‘So what was the problem if she found it in the end?’ asked Jess. ‘I hope she apologised to her classmate, though.’
‘Maisie pushed the other child over at playtime quite forcefully, and she grazed her knee,’ explained Maisie’s teacher. ‘Her mother has just been on the phone to the headteacher complaining.’
‘And is the head still here?’ asked Jess.
‘Yes, she’s in the office, but she might be busy, I…’
Jess did not wait to hear any more; she grabbed Maisie’s hand and strode purposefully, the teacher following, her heels clipping on the wooden floor. She always taught Maisie right from wrong, and found it out of character for Maisie to react the way she did. She needed to hear the whole story.
‘You might need to make an appointment,’ Miss Jenson said, as she struggled to keep up with Maisie and her mum. When they reached the headteacher’s room, Jess rapped on the door.
‘Come in,’ came a voice from behind the door.
The cropped-haired headteacher, somewhere in her forties, glanced up from her laptop.
‘I’d like a word, please,’ Jess said firmly but calmly. ‘About the incident today with Maisie and the pencil case.’
‘Ah yes. Please take a seat,’ said the head, removing her glasses. She gestured to a nearby chair, and the class teacher took a seat opposite her as Maisie stood silently beside her mother.
The room with magnolia painted walls and office-style seats was soulless, thought Jess, who wondered why it had to look so corporate.
But then, that’s what schools were these days, businesses.
Results published for all to see and parents making decisions based upon them.
If they lived in the right catchment area, of course.
Jess thought it might be more inspirational to the children if some of their work was displayed on the walls of the headteacher’s room, or at least something that gave it a personality.
She recalled her own primary school, and how the headteacher had some exceptional artwork pinned to a board in his office, and how the reception area proudly displayed clay sculptures and cardboard vehicles made during science lessons.
‘I hear the child’s mother has complained to you about Maisie pushing her daughter over,’ said Jess.
‘That’s correct. I had a call from Mrs Evans about what happened to Lottie.’ The headteacher closed the lid of her laptop. ‘I was hoping this was something Miss Jenson could have dealt with.’
Jess thought she detected the faintest hint of annoyance in the headteacher’s voice.
‘Maybe, but the thing is, and I’m not excusing Maisie’s behaviour for a second, don’t think I am,’ said Jess evenly.
‘But I’m not sure children ought to be allowed to bring things in from home that are basically toys.
I know budgets are strict, I get that, but surely you still have pencils in school? ’
‘I would argue that a pencil case is not really a toy,’ said the head.
‘Maybe a clear, plastic one, no. But half of them have bells and whistles. Look at this.’
She raised the pink, fluffy case with the silvery pink unicorn protruding from it. The one that had caused so much fuss when Maisie had misplaced it yesterday morning and ultimately ending in a fight with another child today. She did not need another morning like that.
‘You can see how this might distract children from their work,’ Jess continued. ‘And thinking about it, maybe it’s even a little divisive.’
‘Divisive? Really? How so?’ asked the head.
‘Not everyone can afford these things,’ Jess explained.
‘Me included. I am a single parent. This was a gift for Maisie’s birthday.
I can’t afford to shop in Smiggle or similar places.
’ She spoke calmly but in such a tone that the headteacher was left in no doubt she was irritated by the current school rule.
‘I try telling Masie to leave it at home, but she gets upset and says everyone brings such things to school, so I can hardly refuse her, can I?’
The headteacher said nothing as she digested Jess’s words before letting out a sigh.
‘Yes, well, I confess I hadn’t really thought about the cost of such items. Maybe that’s something we ought to have considered,’ she conceded.
‘Miss Jenson, have these items caused you any other problems in the classroom?’
‘I won’t lie, they can be a distraction at times,’ said Maisie’s teacher.
‘And, in truth, I could have done without the incident today when Maisie thought Lottie had taken her pencil case. We have a lot to get through in the curriculum, without having to deal with this kind of thing. But there isn’t a lot I can do if they are not actually banned from school,’ she said pointedly.
Jess looked from the teacher to the headteacher, as she waited for them to come up with a solution.
The headteacher held up her hands. ‘Okay, I think I have heard enough. As of today, anything from home must not be brought into school. I’ll get the secretary to send out a text to parents and include it in Friday’s newsletter.’
‘Brilliant,’ said Jess gratefully. ‘And I will make sure Maisie apologises tomorrow morning to Lottie and her mother.’
‘That would be good. Hopefully that is the matter resolved, then.’ The headteacher opened her laptop once more, telling them the conversation was over.
It would probably make Jess late for work tomorrow, as Lottie’s mother was always the last to arrive on the playground in the morning, but she was also the type to bad-mouth her and Maisie if it wasn’t sorted.
Besides, she really didn’t want Maisie resorting to anything physical when she lost her temper.
‘Thank you,’ whispered Maisie’s class teacher as they reached the end of the corridor. ‘This is going to make teaching a lot easier without the distractions of things brought in from home.’
She told Jess that she had lost count of the times children had cried when they had lost their personal possessions, or if they had got broken. Staff had brought it up in meetings, but the head adopted a more liberal attitude. Until today. The last thing she needed was parents getting on her back.
It occurred to Jess that she would always be the one to sort out any problems that Maisie might encounter.
Her ex was never around enough, although he had appeared last weekend from working away and taken Maisie for a weekend to Blackpool.
They had stayed at a child-friendly hotel that had candy dispensing machines in the bedroom.
Maisie returned home with a fluffy toy, a giant sugar dummy, and no idea when she would see her father again.
Jess felt good that the matter had been dealt with regarding the pencil case, although there was still the small matter of speaking to the other child’s parent.
She decided not to dwell on it as she and Maisie walked home, Maisie humming a tune from the latest pop band.
Jess knew the words to the song too, along with all the songs from the Disney movies they watched together in the evening.
It was after Maisie was tucked in bed that Jess would have liked a grown-up conversation with someone, maybe watching a movie together that didn’t feature animated singing animals.
They were just heading up the path to their apartment when they passed an old lady carrying some recycling to the outside bins.
‘Hello there.’ The lady smiled at them both, before introducing herself as Alice.
‘Oh, hi. I’m Jess and this here is Maisie.’
The little girl, her hair in plaits, smiled a gappy-toothed smile. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said politely.
‘Oh, such perfect manners from one so young,’ exclaimed Alice, a broad smile on her face. She was wearing a white dress, with a pink cardigan over the top that matched her lipstick.
‘I do my best,’ said Jess proudly. ‘I’m glad I caught you as I wanted to thank you for your dinner invite on Friday. Actually,’ said Jess, frowning slightly, ‘I think we have met before. Didn’t you sit next to me on the train a while back?’
‘Indeed, I did.’ Alice smiled and Jess felt comforted by having such a lovely neighbour.
She remembered telling Alice that day they met on the train that she was a single parent, heading to after-school club, and the difficulty of childcare.
Alice had told her that what she enjoyed most about public transport was the chance to chat to someone.
If they were open to it. Many people wore earphones these days, signalling they wanted no interaction.
Or maybe they would be reading a book. It was a shame really, but she supposed that was the way of the world now.
‘So are you coming?’ asked Alice, placing some plastic bottles into a nearby recycling bin.
‘I’d love to, I don’t really get out that much,’ Jess admitted. ‘But I have Maisie here.’
‘Who is perfectly welcome,’ said Alice, turning to Jess’s daughter. ‘I’m not sure if you will have a taste for coq au vin, but I’m sure I can rustle up something else. What do you like, Maisie?’
‘Everything,’ said Maisie brightly. ‘Katsu chicken curry is my favourite.’
‘Well, well, katsu chicken. Did you know katsu came from Japan originally as a pork dish?’ Alice informed her.
‘No,’ said Maisie, shaking her head. ‘But I do know that Japan is known as the Land of the Rising Sun. And that Tokyo is the capital.’
‘Indeed, it is. Clever girl.’ Alice smiled affectionately.
‘Katsu chicken is her current favourite,’ said Jess, smiling. ‘Although she isn’t a fussy eater, thank goodness.’
Alice thought about her nephews then, and how she would cook for them, encouraging them to try different dishes.
She could still recall the expression on her eldest nephew’s face when he first tried a spicy Indian dish.
Maybe he had been too young and she remembered feeling a little guilty when he glugged down some ice-cold water, his face flushed.
‘I can imagine that being tiresome,’ agreed Alice. ‘Well, I look forward to seeing you both on Friday. Oh, and any allergies?’ she asked.
‘No, thankfully,’ replied Jess.
‘Good. I’m so glad you can make it.’
‘I will look forward to it,’ said Jess as Alice headed inside, leaving a lingering perfume which Jess recognised as Chanel Coco in her wake.